She's Moody
by jackqueenking
Summary: ... but it's cool. I like it.
1. she's moody

She's Moody

She's moody, but it's cool. I like it, even if I'm on the receiving end a lot of the time. According to her it's called being sensitive and I wouldn't know a thing about it but I reckon I know a lot, with having had her as my personal tutor all this time. You want a guide to girltown? Just ask Bella.

Tonight though, she didn't start off moody, or sensitive. We met up at the bar, as we often do, starting with a tequila shot as usual and then getting to the beers. While we were at it we munched our way through a fuckton of tortilla chips with guacamole and salsa.

The whole time we were inventing names and scenarios for other people in there, telling each other stories that got more and more outrageous, all the while interrupting each other and snorting with derision.

Normally, I drink more than she does. I mean, I'm way bigger. She's a bit short and a lot skinny. So my liver is mansize and hers is dollsize - right?

I kind of noticed but didn't, that tonight Bella was drinking as much as me. She got funnier and funnier, just like I did, until we were practically howling and crying with how hilarious we both were, and even clutching each other so we wouldn't fall right out of our chairs.

Then there was a break in the proceedings, both of us tired out from all the laughing, and needing a breather. Bella's gaze lighted on a couple sitting near us, who were all loved-up, and clearly about ready for some after-midnight action. They had their heads close together, mouths busy, hands on thighs, shoulders and waists, and closing in.

Bella turned to me, pushing her hair out of her eyes and poking me in the shoulder.

"They're putting on such a stupid display. Showing off. Make them stop."

"They're just kissing, but sure. Um. People - stop."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, that was pretty ineffectual. But they can keep going if they really have to, as long as they do it where I can't see them. Tell them to go away."

"It's not illegal to fondle and grope in a bar. How can I tell them to go away?"

Bella huffed.

"I hate them."

"Why?"

She didn't answer. In fact, she was quiet for a long while, staring into space, then checking back every now and again to frown at the couple, and frown at me. I didn't know what it was all about, but I was prepared to let it wash over me. Tequila and beer, music and mateship, perfect.

Except the mateship aspect of the evening was fixing me with a look that either meant nothing at all, or meant imminent disaster.

"Hey."

"Hey, what?"

"Im going to ask you something and I want you to give me an honest answer."

Really, I should have taken notice of the warning signs - she was heavy-lidded and slurring. But I guess I didn't, so I was completely unprepared when she whined, "What's wrong with me?"

"Ah - nothing?"

"No, there's something. Am I really ugly?"

Well, fuck me dead. Even in my inebriated state, I knew there was no good way I could answer.

"No?"

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not."

She wasn't ugly - at all! I mean - she sure had a lot of hair, and she pulled funny faces all the time and she never wore skirts or dresses, but she wasn't _ugly_. She was just Bella.

"You're a guy. You must know."

"Know what?"

What I didn't know was where this was going.

"Why can't I get a date? Why aren't guys interested in me?"

Oh. Um. "Lots of guys are interested in you."

"Name one."

Oh. I'd never really thought about it, but now that she'd mentioned it, I'd never actually seen her with a guy. There was never a boyfriend. If I texted her and asked if she wanted to meet up, she was always available.

"There's too many for me to name."

One of Bella's many moods, or should I say attributes, is feisty. She doesn't take any shit. She certainly doesn't take any from me.

"That's garbage! You're full of it! You can't name one guy who would want to go out with me."

She smacked me on the arm, which was a bit like being hit by a canary, and then she smacked me again. Double canary attack.

"Edward - you're supposed to be my friend! Set me up with someone already! I haven't had a date in over a year! I haven't had sex for all that time!"

Tmi, Tmi, la la la, I can't hear you... She said what?

"Bells, come on, how is that possible? I don't date but I still have sex," I answered, head spinning. I mean, Bella and I have been hanging around together, for, like,_ ages_, talking about nothing, swapping life stories and tall stories. We both live upstairs from this bar - in _different_ apartments, I hasten to add. We covered all the majors early on - like politics, religion, favorite books and bands and movies... and along the way I might have mentioned some girl here or there, and I'm sure she's mentioned guys... But we were just two single people adrift on the ocean of life who connected often and shared how our days had been, and our weeks, and whether our bosses are idiots and our workmates were heroes or losers...

And shit - she hadn't been laid for over a year?

"All right then, Lovegod - perhaps you'd like to tell me how that works - you and the sex?" she asked, in a purring voice. It might have contained menace.

"Another drink?" I stalled, signalling the bartender.

Bella wasn't sidetracked. "Edward, you don't date, but you have sex. Let me see - there are a few possibilities. You're seeing a married woman, or you're visiting prostitutes, or you're having sixty-second hookups in the bathroom here - or what?"

We'd never actually broached this subject before, incredibly. I was extremely uncomfortable. None of her suggestions were true. It was just - sex never seemed to be too hard to find, that's all. Last weekend I'd been at a party and got talking to a pretty girl, and next thing I knew we'd found a bedroom upstairs with a door that locked and we'd gotten better acquainted. All at _her _prompting, I might add. Three weeks ago a delegation from interstate had visited the office I worked in, and there'd been after-work drinks, and then one of the PA's had assisted me personally, so to speak. A couple of weeks before that, there was this bridesmaid at a wedding I went to...

Bella seemed ready to pounce on whatever I said. It would probably be best if I didn't say anything.

"Look, just - I don't know, never mind. It's a subject for another time, I think," I mumbled. "Maybe we should go. Big day tomorrow."

I had no idea what she was doing tomorrow. I was spending the morning in bed with the papers and the remote, and then the afternoon doing laundry. As for the evening - I was visiting my parents. Chance of casual sex this weekend - less than nil. Which was fine.

But Bella wasn't giving up on the topic.

"Couldn't you at least tell me what you think the problem is? Is it my breasts? Are they too small? Guys like _big _breasts, don't they?"

And goddamn, my BFF put her hands to her chest, cupping her breasts and pushing them up, like she was offering them for me to lick.

Bella Swan went from drinking buddy to femme fatale in seconds flat.

She wasn't wearing a low-cut top, which incidentally she never did, so there was nothing to even see, but that wasn't the point. The way she held them, in invitation, just suddenly set off a jolt that nearly killed me stone dead. Exhibit A - the fully-clothed breasts of Bella Swan. Exhibit B - Edward Cullen, expired. Conclusion - the deceased met his end at the usage of the word "breasts" which he found arousing beyond measure, and at the extreme provocation meted out by a person he had previously considered a friend, and was now forced to view in a sexual light, thus leading to heart failure.

Oh, Jesus. I'd never given any thought to her breasts before. Really, they didn't stick out much, and she wore baggy clothes. It was quite easy to overlook that she had any. God, Bella - stop it! I'm a tit man, and the last fucking thing I need is to know is that besides my good friend being funny, and clever and sarcastic and maddening - she has those soft, squishy mounds on her chest that I could wrap my hands around, with protruding tips that I could suck into my mouth and play with... _fuck! Fuck_ you, Bella! You've fucking ruined everything. I don't want to fucking know that you have tits. I don't want to fucking know that you're horny and you want sex. Because I'm a guy. With a dick. Now I will go to bed hard, and I'll never quite be able to look at you the same way again. And I liked having a friend who's a girl. Even if I conveniently overlooked the girl parts.

Thanks a _bunch_.

"I'm going home," I said abruptly. Turned on, and thoroughly pissed.

.

.

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said I'd post my ramblings...did I mean ravings?...


	2. my saturday

My Saturday

My Saturday was already mapped out, and included a couple hours of lying around in bed before I had to do anything much. Most Saturday mornings if I was alone in bed, I might or might not, well - what do you do when you're alone in bed and you know there won't be any interruptions? Get a little self-indulgent?

Let's back-pedal a little here.

When I'd first met Bella, way back when, she'd been struggling in the stairwell to carry groceries upstairs on a day the elevator had inconveniently broken down. Being the neighborly sort that I am, I offered to help. She offered me iced tea, and we sat at her table, discovering a mutual love for British television comedy, and quoting lines back and forth in excruciatingly bad accents. Two hours disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle that day, and we wanted to talk more, though lunch with her mother was calling her, and the laundromat was calling me. I said I would probably go downstairs to the bar on ground level for a drink later, and I could knock on her door on the way past to see if she was around. I did, and she was, and five hours disappeared into a whirlpool. By the time we staggered up to her door, snickering, we'd become such friends that I wondered how I'd ever gotten by without her. Maybe because we shared an immediate compatibility based on humor, I really didn't notice too much what she looked like. We were too busy with instant in-jokes that meant nothing to anybody else. I introduced her to my friends, she introduced me to hers, but we had such a brain thing going on no-one got me the way she did, and I knew it was mutual. She has a very expressive face and I was continually fascinated watching her every thought and feeling flit across it in rapid-fire speed. I got an honest-to-God hit every time her eyes met mine in silent recognition that we understood one another's obscure references. Despite all that, if anyone had asked me, "Is Bella Swan pretty?" I'd have been stumped for an answer. Animated, yes. Unique, yes. Pretty? I never noticed.

But when she'd wailed at me about the lack of sex in her life, something in me had stirred. And when she mentioned "breasts" that something had started turning somersaults. The B word undoes me. Luckily, it's not that often used except medically, and I am not so sicko that its use in a medical context sends me into a frenzy. Most girls say tits or boobies, and I say yes please yum yum, and I can stay in control of myself. But Bella had said "breasts", and even worse, had preceded it with the word "my". I was pole-axed.

And because of it, my Saturday morning was not going exactly as planned. I'd thought I'd peruse the morning papers, catching up on world news, watch some crappy tv, and idly enjoy a little wood-polishing before tackling the rest of my day. Instead, I was in the death-like grip of a paralyzing guilt, completely unable to polish said wood, because the image that kept flashing into my mind's eye was that of my friend, my _friend_, who was somehow sacrosanct and inviolable and untouchable. Because why? Because we'd never even admitted that she was a girl and I was a boy, and we were both heterosexual. We'd never gone there. Heads only, nothing below the chin. Why had the topic never come up? Oh shit fuck, something's up now. We'd both played dumb, that's why, skirting the issue. Don't think of skirts. Shit. It was just so easy and nice to have a friend who was a girl without having to deal with the will-we-or-won't-we complications you always get.

Well, so much for that, Ostrich-boy. Those complications are here now.

I was still unrelieved, and still berating myself for unseemly thoughts when my phone beeped.

_How embarrassed am I?_ she texted.

_I don't know. 7 out of 10?_ I sent back, probably way too quickly.

_Try 11. I'm really sorry. I overshared_

What was she referring to? Telling me about the desert of her sex-life, or putting her hands on her breasts in front of me? The first was bad enough. The second had left me under extreme duress.

_Don't worry about it_

Because, dear Bella, I was already worrying enough for both of us, believe me.

_Thx for being such a good friend_

Friend? I scowled. You've _screwed _the friendship, Bella.

I spent the day frustrated all to hell, and the rest of the week, too, and I didn't have an outlet, and I didn't have anyone to talk to. Any of my mates would have advised me to sleep with her, and would even have asked why I hadn't already. Because! Just because! Apparently, amongst my circle, it wasn't common to have a completely platonic friendship with a girl. Yeah, well, your loss, buddies. Or does the question of sex always have to come into the picture, and be dealt with, one way or another? Had I just been in denial? I wished my libido would go away, quite honestly, and leave me in peace so things could go on as they had been. Me and Bella, ha ha ha, la la la, ra ra ra. I fucking _liked _her, and then she'd gone and gotten my dick involved.

The next weekend I didn't message her to meet downstairs, and she didn't message me. I needed some recovery time, and perhaps she did too. If we left it long enough we could both pretend the episode had never happened, and go back to how things were in the good old days.

Someone at my work had a farewell party on the Friday as they'd been headhunted for a job elsewhere, and there were drinks at the office. Lots of drinks. The woman who was leaving had given me some speculative looks on more than one occasion, and on Friday she pulled me into the photocopy room, murmuring something about a special send-off. She was older than me, elegant and immaculate with never a hair out of place, and now she wanted me to mess her up.

I could have, and I knew it would have been good, but I didn't. I graciously declined, unwinding her arms from around my neck and kissing her lightly on the cheek, wishing her all the best in her new role.

And then I went home. Just on the off chance, I put my head around the door of the bar on my way past. Dimitri, the most regular patron in the history of regular patrons, called me in for a drink, but I was looking for a certain person with Cousin It hair, and couldn't see her.

"Not tonight, D," I said, but he'd already ordered me a drink. Cuervo. Bestower of the best out-of-body experiences known to man and available over a counter. Legally. Also the most grievous thief of brain cells known to man, and the cause and source of the world's most debilitating headaches. The gift that gives three times.

Another quick scan of the bar as I slid onto the barstool next to D revealed no diminutive brunette in need of a hairstyle and wearing clothes from the XXL rack when she's XXS. Dyslexia much, Ms Swan? Why don't guys want to date you? Because of the way you hide yourself?

Oh my God, I'd just had a revelation. Bella, I want to talk you. Through a tequila haze.

I sent a message, but before I knew it I was discussing homewares and recipes with Dimitri, and the tequila kept turning up right in front of me.

Three o'clock I floated up the stairs since I was too drunk to work the elevator, and I passed Bella's door. I thought it was her door. It was someone's door anyway. I could have knocked on it, but if it had opened I'd have fallen in, and I wouldn't have been able to get up again.

So I saved that ignominy for getting to my own apartment. My key miraculously fit in to the lock, and I congratulated myself that I wasn't too drunk to get something hard into a tight space. The innuendo wasn't lost on me.

I woke hours later to find I'd fallen asleep on the floor, with an emphasis on the _falling_, and I didn't just have the headache from hell, I was sore all over.

And I had fucking dreamed of Bella Swan. One of _those _dreams, oh yeah. You know what I mean. She wants you, you want her, you're together somehow, somewhere, the clothes come off, you're both right _there,_ you're on the brink, you're just about to … oh God, oh God ..."Do you like my _breasts_?" she says, right before she disappears into a cloud of fucking nothingness, leaving you aching.

She wasn't only tormenting, she was _haunting_ me.

.

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	3. three weeks

Three Weeks

Three weeks later, and I'd no further contact from Bella.

Three Bella-free weeks meant that no-one was banging on my door at inconvenient times saying, "Do you have an onion? And any garlic? And some cilantro? A can of red beans? Oh, and a ripe avocado? Thanks. Oh, and a packet of corn chips? You're unreal. Seeya." Or, "Could you open this jar of peanut butter for me? Have you got any teaspoons? Not that I'm going to eat peanut butter straight out of the jar with a teaspoon, no way. Not much." Or, "One of my lightbulbs blew, and you're stupidly tall. Could you replace it for me? Do you have any lightbulbs? I'm all out."

Three Bella-free weeks, and she wasn't answering my calls. I missed her. Enough was enough. Really, it shouldn't take this long to get over a little embarrassment.

I left a note under her door. And another one the next day, when she didn't respond to the first.

"Oh, hey, hi," she said vaguely when she finally rang me.

"Well, you're certainly hard to get hold of," I answered. Shit. I said hard. And I talked about getting hold of her.

"Yeah, I can be quite slippery," she said, still sounding remote. Fucktons of shit. She said... I don't remember what she said. I didn't even register it. In one ear and out the other, as they say.

"So, how've you been?" I enquired, striving for casual, not like I'd been obsessing.

"Oh, yeah, good. I went to see my Dad. It was good. I'm back now."

That's why she hadn't called me! Her father lives in what amounts to a forest, at least, there's forest all around him and a tree right next to his house. There's no telecom connectivity. Internal fistpump, because she hadn't been avoiding me. I hoped.

"So, you must have lots of news?"

"Uh?"

"About Charlie. How is he?"

"Great. He's great."

"And his girlfriend? How's the senior citizens' romance going?"

Here was an opportunity for a really good segue. Don't pause for breath. It's going to be so smoooooooth. "Wanna meet up tonight and you can tell me all about it?" Cullen is the King. He rocks, he rules, he reigns.

"Uh..."

Whaaaattt? Are you _hesitating?_ Why the fuck for?

"Yeah, actually, okay. Let's do that. How are you, by the way?"

"Fine. You know."

She's the moody one, but _I_ spent half the day worrying and the other half fretting. By the time I arrived at our usual table at Aro's that night I'd gotten it out of my system and I reckoned I was presenting myself as my regular picture of suave.

"Bells, it's been ages," I said warmly when she slid into the booth beside me. "Lovely to see you. How's work and life and everything?"

"Sucks, okay, and it's what you make of it."

"Of course. Any update on your upcoming step-daughter status?"

"Oh, Dad and Sue are being so coy, it's cute really, she's obviously living there and they're both trying to pretend that she just stays over sometimes because they can't admit to themselves that they're living in sin..."

"Well I should think not, they'd evoke consternation amongst all the good folk in town..."

"Yeah, the disapproval rating would be sky-high..."

And by tacit agreement, the hiccup had never happened. Fun times. My good friend Bella and I without a care in the world that we weren't able to tear down via sarcasm. And beer.

And oh, the joys of spring. Let's sweep that which has gone before under the carpet, and I won't mention it if you won't. We're not embarrassed any more, we're peaches and cream.

Then Bella announced she wanted to dance. We'd danced together lots of times, and from my point of view it was pretty much comic relief, as Bella's limbs were so awkward. She was like a marionette with seven different people pulling the strings while wearing blindfolds.

We went on out to the dance floor, and I'm not called Snake-hips for nothing and she's not called uncoordinated for nothing. I could barely suppress my laughter, but it wasn't because of how funny she was, it was because I admired her so much for loving music and movement anyway, and I was glad to have my friend back even if we were ignoring an issue. Or was it an issue? Maybe I was just exaggerating the significance of the whole business.

Yeah. I was. Forget it, Edward. It was nothing. Bella's relegated it to the over-and-done-with basket, you should too.

We scooted back along the bench seat of our booth, panting slightly after our exertions, and finished our drinks. I got us another and sat back, legs splayed, arms hooked out over the back of the booth, waiting to cool down.

"God, I'm hot. Have you got a pencil?" Bella asked.

In any universe except Bella's you'd wonder how these two remarks could be uttered side by side. But I'm here, in her sphere. And the first thing I do when I'm hot is make sure I've got a pencil. At least one, often more, because I never know when I'll need lots of them.

"Yeah, dozens. In my wallet, in every pocket, and several tucked inside my socks," I answered. "I never go anywhere without a 2B."

"So funny I forgot to laugh," Bella said. She walked over to Dimitri in his enshrined seat at the bar and came back, shoving and poking at me until I was perched on the very end of the bench, half hanging off. Then she did the most extraordinary thing.

Raising her arms, she scooped all that heavy hair up, and twisted it into a rope. Then she coiled the rope at the back of her head, and once it was in a more or less tight bunch, she produced a pencil and speared her hair. Her hands came away, and the hair stayed exactly where she'd pinned it. I was wondering which law of physics allows a woman to produce a hairstyle using centrifugal force and a thin tube of wood when I suddenly noticed something else. Bella's neck. Oh Lord.

It was slender and elegant and curved and graceful, like the neck of her namesake, nature's most lovely waterbird. It was also pale and vulnerable and somehow shocking in its frailty. That miraculous narrow cylinder conducted her breath and nerves and held her head up and connected her brain to her heart and her head to her body. I couldn't quite believe it. She sat in three-quarter profile to me, and without the veil I saw clearly for the first time her brow, her cheekbones, her nose, her jaw. I'd never even noticed the outline of her lips before, somehow, in all the talking we'd done. How had I never really _looked_ at her?

Then, drawn by the slim pale column of her throat, my gaze moved lower. She was wearing one of her usual shapeless sweatshirts, but just above the neckline, even in this poor lighting, I could see her collarbones. Well, I could see them defined by the gleam of the skin along the top of them, and the shadow beneath. Oh shit, Bella. You're pretty and delicate and you're a _girl_. And I'm a boy.

Then Bella turned and caught me staring, and her expression morphed from the slack look she'd worn listening to the music to an intensity. There was a tv show made some time ages ago in black and white about a family who were traveling in space. My parents made me watch reruns of it, because they liked it so much. The family had a robot that spent a lot of time with the family's young son, looking after him. The robot had these extendable arms that looked like tubing from an air conditioning system, and whenever it detected a threat it would wave its arms around and warn the son, who was called Will Robinson.

_Danger Will Robinson! Danger Will Robinson!_ the robot would intone, in its weird mechanical voice.

"So, Edward - about what we were discussing last time I saw you..." Bella said, and in my head, I heard the robot.

_Danger, Will Robinson, danger!_

"Mmm. Umm. Ah."

Bella had to bend close, and even then she couldn't hear me. I hadn't said anything worth hearing.

"Well?" she demanded. She'd been mortified about this the next day. Why was she bringing it up again? I'd thought it was done and dusted.

But apparently she hadn't moved on. The subject wasn't closed. Starting off with a stammer, she warmed up, rushing through words, stringing them together.

"It's, it's not that I want a boyfriend, well I, I _do_ want a boyfriend, but sheesh, I'd even just like to feel that somebody _likes _me, you know? What do I have to do? I'm boring, I'm weird, I'm unattractive, I just want to get _laid_, I don't care if it's a one-night stand, well I do, because I want to have a boyfriend, why can't I find one, what's wrong with me Edwaaaaarrrrd?"

I took her firmly by the shoulders.

"Stop saying those negative things about my friend or I'll call the insult police and have you arrested."

"Easy for you to say. You're going around picking up girls everywhere, apparently. What is it about them? What makes you want them? What_ do_ guys want? Can you tell me?"

I couldn't. I was tongue-tied. Her huge eyes were colorless but dark in the dim reaches of the booth we were in, at the back of the room well away from the blaring, glaring lights of the dance floor. I could just barely make out that her cheeks were flushed.

"How do I be seductive? How do I be desirable?" she implored. "Half the girls in here tonight will get to go home with someone. How come_ I _never find anyone?"

"Stop with the pity-party right now. You're a lovely girl, and if the dickheads around here can't see it, that's their loss. Don't change anything about yourself to try and be what you're not. None of these guys are the right guy for you," I said, feeling more hopeless by the second. If she asked_ me_ outright to take her home I would. I'd take her wherever she wanted, however she wanted. Fast, slow, you set the pace, Bella, tell me what you want and you'll have it.

But she wasn't asking me. She was lamenting the lack of suitable men, and I was only sitting a foot away. Therefore she didn't consider _me_ one. She trusts me, she trusts me not. One wrong move, and the wrong petal would come off the daisy. My feisty Bella would throw a drink in my face before stomping on our friendship with scorn and dismissal.

So I sat there, and she held her chin with her palm, frowning. God knew what she was brewing up in that crazy mind of hers. I set _my_ mind to regaining the platonic feelings I used to have, though it was useless. They were gone.

Then she huffed so loudly I could hear her even over the volume of the music. Something bad was coming, I just knew it.

"So, Edward Cullen, expert. _Sex_pert. What exactly does it take for a woman to be sexy?"

"Can you just _stop_ all this? You don't need to be told by someone else. You don't need any advice, or opinions. _You're_ sexy." Which was the truth as I saw it, even if my realization had been very recent.

My honesty wasn't well-received, though.

"Oh,_ garbage!_" she exclaimed. "Who thinks that? Nobody! The chances of me having an orgasm anytime soon other than one that's self-generated are _nil!_ Why would you say I'm sexy? _You_ don't think so!"

She was thoroughly pissing me off. I might have made a response I really didn't give much forethought to.

"Oh, don't I?" I answered. "Prepare to be amazed."

.

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	4. I'm a bastard

I'm A Bastard

I'm a bastard, I'm a jerk, I'm an ass. Absolutely. I was driven to my limit by a girl refusing to hear that she was gorgeous, but that's no excuse for what I did next. I took Bella's hand and put it lightly - _very_ lightly - on the bulge in my pants, the bulge caused by her proximity, by the glimpse of her neck and throat, the huskiness of her voice. I wasn't hard - nowhere near - but I wasn't completely soft, either. I was having a reaction to her, especially since she'd mentioned self-generated orgasms, which I tried, and failed, not to picture. Somehow in my muddled brain, committing what amounted to an assault was the appropriate way to let her know that I didn't think she was as unattractive as she was claiming to be.

Bella's eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.

"So there. Satisfied?" I asked, trying to move her hand.

"Noooo," she answered, and she resisted. Oh shit. She _what?_ She cupped her fingers and ran her thumb along the length of me, which wasn't much, but that one stroke of her thumb made me grow. She did it again, and there was more of me than there had been a second ago. I felt the blood flooding in, felt the extending happen. She repeated the action before I could stop her, and this time my dick wanted to jump into her hand.

"Unh," I said, blinking rapidly.

"Mmm? Is this okay?" she muttered,_ pleaded_ really, glancing up.

_No_, the fuck it's not. You're touching my _dick_, friendperson. But I started it. And shit, it feels fucking good.

"Unh," I repeated weakly. Clearly I'm not the man I pride myself on being - that is, decent. Without a shred of decency I was prepared to let my platonic friend grope me.

"Bella - ?" I tried, not even knowing what I was going to say, but it appeared groping wasn't exactly what Bella Swan had in mind. Before I knew it, she'd twisted around and thrown one leg over both of mine, clambering up and bumping herself on the table in the process before landing across my thighs. Then she moved closer, and I mean _closer_. The part of bodies where thighs become hips and vice versa - and in between them, from east to west, is where worlds meet. _That's_ where I felt her.

Oh, Bella. Oh my God. She must have done yoga in a previous life, or pilates. Had she ever told me that or was I just dreaming it? Her knees were spread so wide I spent half a microsecond marveling at her suppleness, but then sensation kicked in fully and all conscious thought departed.

Her head was tucked into my shoulder, and I heard her whisper my name like a question. Dimly, I registered that she was asking for permission to sit on me like this. As if I could say no.

"Yes, yes," I whispered raggedly back, but Bella wasn't planning to perch there demurely like she was on a bus. Oh no. She sat there like I was a bucking bronco and she was having to shift in the saddle, side to side, up and down, round and round. What was worse, or better, to be honest, was her rhythm. She was keeping pace with the song that was playing - the thumping, throbbing beat pushing everyone in the room, ruling our collective pulses, and dictating the tempo of Bella's hips. She'd flung her arms over my shoulders, hands in my hair, fingers at my scalp, and I didn't have a clue what to do with mine. Could I touch her, hold her? Fuck, we were spiraling out of control. It was killing me. I slid my hands underneath her sweatshirt and upwards, and found nirvana. Her breasts were small, yes. My hands swamped them, yes. They were so fucking _exciting_. I kneaded their softness, the tight points pressing through her bra into my palms. She responded with slower, deeper surges of her groin into mine that made my skin tingle all over. My head brain was well and truly checked out while my dick brain was thoroughly loving being rubbed on, yet was thinking ahead at the same time, if that's what you call it. Thinking, oh yeah, we're gonna party here oh yeah, and then we're gonna take it somewhere less public, and get_ down_. Her bedroom, my bedroom, or halfway up the fucking stairs outside, yeah.

And she kept pressing on me and gyrating and I needed to leave her breasts alone or I'd push her sweatshirt all the way up and claw her bra out of the way, searching for her nipples with my tongue. I had a flash of seeing myself lifting her onto the table, her breasts in my hands and mouth, and then me moving lower to explore and discover. Shut it off, stop _immediately_. It was fucking dark and loud and nobody was paying us any attention, but we were in a _bar_, for God's sake. There was no way I'd be getting more intimate with Bella here.

So I held her hips. I'd never touched her before, apart from neighborly hugs, and the feel of her was astonishing. Such a skinny little thing, but there was fire in her, vibrancy. And she may have been pummeling me in time with the music, but fuck, it augured well, the way she moved. Very, very well. I could go at this pace for hours, _hours_. It was perfect. Bella, this is good, this is wonderful, this is magic, this is fucking _amazing_, can we get the hell out of this place, right now?

Her head shifted slightly, and I felt her lips against my throat. At first it seemed like kissing, but then I realized she was panting right on my skin. And grunting, soft and light. Oh God. We fucking _really_ need to get upstairs if you're going to make noises like that, missy, because, because...

Bella whimpered. She whined. The song was nearly over and I was nearly desperate and I was pushing back up to her, meeting her rhythm, when she faltered. Her voice keened, her body became tense, she pressed down with her hips _hard_, and started shaking. Then she just sort of folded.

My hands flew to her shoulders and I eased her gently back so that I could look into her face. Was I flattering myself or had she just come on my dick?

"Did you - ? You didn't! Did you just...?"

She could barely keep her head up. If I hadn't been holding on to her, she'd have fallen off me, she'd gone so wobbly. Her eyes were half-open and a slow smile spread across her face. She looked _blissful_.

"Jesus! _Jesus_, Bella!"

I loosened my grip and she collapsed on me.

Stunned, I wrapped my arms around her. Apart from her ribs expanding and contracting with deep breaths, she was still as a statue. My dick really, really missing her motion and the friction she'd been generating, but my ego was floating somewhere up near the ceiling.

"Did you...? I mean, you know... Really...?" I asked again.

Now we _had _to get upstairs. It was imperative that we continue this. You sweet, beautiful, crazy, sexy girl, come with me, be with me, let's go. I want you so much.

But. But.

I eased her back from me again, to kiss her and whisper sweet things or dirty things or whatever, but away from the support of my shoulder, Bella's head dropped abruptly. So abruptly that the pencil fell out of her hair, and her mane cascaded down, covering her face. My fingers grasped her chin, tilting it up gently so I could look at her. She was still wearing the euphoric smile, but her eyes were closed.

"Bella?"

No response at all.

"Sweetness?"

Well, goddamn.

Bella Swan was fast asleep.

.

.

.


	5. what now?

What Now?

What now? We couldn't just sit there at Aro's indefinitely. For all I knew, Bella wouldn't wake up until morning. I had to do something.

Carrying her from the bar was out of the question. It would look like some fucking dreadful predatorial scenario, and the security personnel would be over me like a rash. I mean, they knew Bella and I hung together all the time, but shit, we were always compos mentis, albeit laughing like hyenas when we left. If I was carrying her they might think she'd had a fucking roofy or something.

"Come on, Bella, I'd better get you home. Let's walk to the elevator, it's not far," I coaxed, shaking her gently. "I've got you, you won't fall, you're with me, it's okay."

I got her upright, pulling her arm tight around my waist and wrapping mine firmly around her shoulders, holding her as she stumbled alongside me.

"What's with her?" Laurent, the doorman asked. "Bella?"

"I'm fine, jus' tired," she mumbled, although I wasn't sure if she was strictly awake. He nodded to me and I nodded back.

"Good girl, nearly there, a few steps more. Keep going. Christ."

As soon as we'd gotten shambling to the foyer, I picked her up. She could barely walk anyway. She hardly weighed anything - such a tiny frame to contain such a big personality. Waiting for the elevator, I whispered wanting, affectionate things to her, grateful that she couldn't hear them. I had to work all this out in my head before I said anything like that to her for real.

And of course, I had a dilemma - whether to leave her in her apartment on her own, or stay with her, or take her to my place. How much had she drunk? Not that much, I'd been monitoring. Three beers. She wasn't totaled by alcohol, she'd been totaled by my dick. How could I leave her to sleep on her own, knowing that? I needed to be with her when she woke up, so I could give her some more.

But maybe she'd need space? Would she be embarrassed again? Mortified? I just didn't fucking know, but I figured she'd probably want her privacy. Then again, after what had happened, perhaps she'd think I was loathsome if I deserted her overnight. I couldn't decide.

She and I had often tossed coins over who was the biggest sissy, her or me, or who had the dumbest shoes, me or her. She loved saying dramatically, "Ignore the toss of the coin at your peril". Only if the toss went her way, funnily enough. So I thought I'd let fate decide for me, and toss a coin once I got her settled.

At her door, I realized I was going to have to search her for a key, since she didn't carry a purse. Bella wasn't like other women, carting around facepaint and god-knows-what everywhere she went. I propped her against the wall and said loudly, "Bella, can you hear me? We're at your apartment. I can take you inside but I need your doorkey."

She surfaced, briefly. "Pocket," she slurred, reaching for me. "Edward. Mmm. Thank you."

"For what?"

"This."

"What do you mean?"

"Mmm-mm." Another of those smiles, the one she'd had in the bar. I'd never seen it before tonight - now I knew why. It was her post-orgasm smile.

Oh fuck, I'm not fucking going home, I'm not leaving her, I'm going to sleep at her place, and I'm going to get to see this smile again in the morning, after I've done something to deserve it. Yeah.

"Okay, Sweetness, which pocket?"

I'd never called anybody Sweetness in my life - I didn't even know how the word came to mind. But the novelty of my endearment meant nothing to its recipient. She probably didn't hear me. At her lack of response, I felt cautiously along the front of her jeans, aware that this was practically another assault. Luckily, I located the keys immediately in a hip pocket, without having to turn her around and go for her ass. One day we'll laugh about this, Bella.

After opening her door, I scooped her up again. Her apartment's layout is the same as mine, so I had no need of directions to get to her bedroom. She was way too far gone for teeth-brushing. Wondering whether to undress her I decided no, just in case she felt I'd taken liberties. How fucking complicated, all this stuff.

Lovely Bella lay there, peaceful and untroubled under the coverlet I'd tucked so carefully around her, while I sat on the edge of the bed troubled all to hell. Wanting nothing more than to get into the other side of the bed and snuggle up, I flipped a coin and didn't get the outcome I wanted. I flipped again and again, but every toss went against me. Oh shit, that was crap.

I'm not in the least superstitious - but I was getting a bad feeling, and starting to doubt my judgement. What if she regretted what she and I had done? What if she found me there in the morning and told me jump out of the fucking window? My self-doubt grew so fast it outstripped my determination to hold her in her sleep and be there when she woke, because after all, she'd talked about wanting sex, but she hadn't talked about me. She'd said she wanted a boyfriend, but she hadn't uttered a peep, ever, about me. Maybe I'd really be crowding her if I stayed. She'd asked my permission for what she'd done, twice in fact, but if I stayed here tonight, it would be without her agreement.

Regretfully, I let myself out, after leaving water on her nightstand along with some painkillers, just in case. I wanted to leave a fucking bumper sticker that said I heart your boobies, too, but I didn't have one handy. I heart you coming on me, crazy girl.

At home, I didn't know what to do with myself. I had an erection as hard as a fucking brick, but I didn't want to use thoughts of Bella to get rid of it. I wanted the _actuality_ of Bella to get rid of it. Cold water is rude and a bastard, but it has its uses, and it made my priapic problem disappear. For about twenty minutes. I couldn't sleep, I wasn't hungry, and I just paced. Then I surfed the net until late, when I'd thoroughly tired myself out and couldn't think of another single thing to look up on youtube, and couldn't bear to have any more rubbish tv blaring out at me. Something very important was happening.

There'd been girls, yeah, quite a few, if I was to be honest. I'd never intentionally hurt any of them, but I'd never wanted to stick around any longer than a few weeks. Mostly it had been the case that the girls who went for me were the sort who didn't want to stick around me either. And that was just fine. I saw my parents every two or three weeks, I caught up with male friends once or twice a week, and I hung out with my neighbor and pal whenever the two of us were around at the same time. I'd thought it was convenience, as well as genuine mateship. But I saw Bella more than I saw any other friends, and more than anyone in my family. Sure, it was easy, because she lived a floor down from me. But really, it wasn't just because it was easy. Wake up, Edward. It was because I wanted to. I'd sought her out, over and over again, and I'd only just realized it.

So now we had to talk. Properly. Not our usual sort of talk where we both sprayed drinks out of our noses because we couldn't stop laughing, or went off on tangents so wild that we were the only two people in the room with the slightest chance of keeping up with each other. No, we needed to have a serious discussion and to stay on topic. But what if Bella didn't want Tangent Guy? Drinkspray Guy?

_"So Bella, I've been thinking, and I've come up with a brilliant idea. You and me, how about it?"_

_"How about what?"_

_"You know. Us. Me and you. Dating. Holding hands and that sort of thing."_

_"You said brilliant. That's hardly brilliant. It's kind of distasteful. Do you have any other ideas?"_

_"Hey, I'm serious! Don't dismiss it without even considering it! We see each other all the time anyway, and we have lots of fun, don't we? Let's just add sex into the mix. Voila. You did say you wanted some sex."_

_"Hmm. Okay, considering it. Tick tock, tick tock. Results are in. The answer is nope."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because things between you and me are just fine the way they are. If you've already got a perfectly good house, why add an extension?"_

Well, that imaginary exchange went well. Unfortunately, it was exactly what I could picture Bella saying.

Onto Plan B.

I didn't have a Plan B. Really, there wasn't even a Plan A.

Think now, Eddie. Come up with a Plan A, and a Plan B. And one or two contingencies, just in case. Let's face it, you'll probably need them.

.

.

.


	6. nine o'clock

Nine o'clock

Nine o'clock in the morning, on the dot, some heinous bastard started thumping on my door. WTF, seriously. I didn't get to bed until after four, and I fucking need my sleep. I have blackout curtains, I need absolute dark and absolute quiet. And I need nine hours. The light of day wasn't scheduled to make an appearance in my life until after one pm.

I rolled onto my belly and clutched the pillow over my head figuring the noise would stop if I ignored it. Wrong. For God's sake. Nobody but debt collectors would be this persistent, surely. Did I owe anybody any money? No, I'd never borrowed money in my life, except for the odd couple of bucks here and there when I was at school and hungry as a lion and needed more food from the cafeteria. No-one could possibly be chasing me for that now, I repaid every cent.

So wtf? Scowling ferociously I strode to the door, prepared to let fly at whoever had dared disrupt my precious slumber.

Holy shit. A quick look through the peephole had revealed Bella Swan, distorted in the fish-eye lens, anxious and biting her lip. She was short, as usual, and half-covered in that unruly hair. Considerably more awake than she'd been last time I saw her. Also, considerably less blissful. But hey - she was here. Back for more sweetness, Sweetness? I wish, I wish...

I opened the door and she held her hands out to me, one clutching a paper bag and a fistful of paper napkins, the other offering an enormous coffee. I knew without asking that she'd brought asparagus and blue-cheese frittata, along with a triple-shot macchiato. She knows me, my neighbor and drinking buddy, Bella.

"Well, _thanks_. Come in," I began happily, before I remembered that we had a Situation. She blinked furiously and chewed on her lip some more, and I was still so half-asleep and completely exhausted that it took me a second to register her gaze seemed stuck at her own eye level. She was staring at my chest, which was currently uncovered since I'd gone to bed in pajama pants and nothing else. Shit. Was my chest weird or something? I'd never thought so, but her eyes took some time to climb as far north as my face.

"Uh, we'll share this, right?" I offered lamely. We'd often met for breakfast at the diner on our block before, and I always ordered the frittata. She always got waffles, but I figured they were harder to carry around in a paper bag. The frittata was big enough to cut into two slices, although after a drunken night I could easily eat a slice on my own. Last night hadn't been drunken though, by any means. At all. For either of us, as I recalled.

But Bella pushed the offerings at me and said urgently, "This is for you. I've got to go."

"Oh," I answered, disappointment battling with relief, and winning. "What about just sharing the coffee? There's plenty."

"Um, well, um, I guess, ah, well, okay," she said, following me to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table.

Then, get over the mumbling, jump straight in, don't beat about the bush, never save for tomorrow what you can do today - go Bella.

"About last night," she said, like it was an announcement.

I hadn't even had a single mouthful of triple-strength caffeine. I was still in the middle of getting two mugs out of the cupboard, along with sugar because I knew Bella took her coffee sweetened.

"Mmm?" I said, clattering, pouring, stirring, pushing a mug towards her.

"I might as well come straight out with it. I want you to know I'm ashamed of myself," she began. "I'm so fucking sorry for violating you like that."

Whoa. Violating?

"Hold on there, Bella. I'm a big boy. I could have fought you off, you know."

"Yes, but I know you. You wouldn't hurt me. I mean - to stop me you'd have had to prise me off and throw me across the room. There's no way you'd ever do that, so you just had to put up with it. But it's not just that you wouldn't hurt me physically, I know you'd be worried about my feelings as well. You wouldn't want to make me feel rejected, even with me doing something that must have been so unwelcome. So I'm appalled at myself, there's no just excuse for my behavior. I don't even know how I can face you right now, but I had to make myself clear. Nothing like that will ever, ever happen again, I assure you. _Ever_."

"Ah, well - since we're talking about it - "

"God - what must you think? What was _I _thinking? Just because it's been so long since I - well, never mind. I mean you know all about that anyway, since I went and told you. It's not like you asked or anything. Bigmouth strikes again - giving away unsolicited information. I probably embarrassed the hell out of you. I don't know how you put up with me."

She was really rambling, heating up in the cheeks, flushing adorably. Even though I was aware of her acute discomfort, I couldn't help thinking that she looked lovely like this. Could I just lean down and kiss her, so she'd see I wasn't upset with her in the slightest? Would that make everything better?

"And what a fucking loser am I? What a - what a - I mean, really, _dry-humping_ in a _bar_, in public like that? And you being more or less some hapless bystander? And me getting off? _Actually_ getting off - like _having an orgasm_ getting off - from rubbing on your dick? Where's my sense of decorum? Wouldn't you think some sort of inhibition would kick in and I would have been sensible and just stopped it all? Oh no, Bella's gotta keep going, grinding all over my friend's erection, losing all sense of time and place because he's hard and it makes me feel so good, and there I am just going for gold... oh God..."

Oh God indeed. I should have been sensible and gone and sat down on the the other side of the table, or I should have been sensible and put on iron-clad underwear, or I should have been sensible and stuffed an ice-pack down my pajama pants somehow as soon as I knew who was at the door, because listening to Bella talking about what had happened between us the previous night was reminding my dick just _exactly_ what had happened between us the previous night. She'd sat astride me, pressing in with her pelvis and holding me with her arms, lips to my throat and soft moans in my ear, until she'd climaxed. _On me_. I hadn't actually had a single unrelated thought since, and here she was now, sitting right in front of me.

And here was me, standing right in front of her.

And I was wearing pajama pants.

And she was talking, agitatedly, about my dick giving her an orgasm.

So wouldn't you just know it? My unscrupulous, shameless, trigger-happy, grateful and opportunistic dick popped up to say hello.

Oh, yeah. I was next to the table, having just stirred sugar into coffee for her, and her face must have been a matter of eighteen inches or so from me, and my fucking dick _heard _her talking about it. I tried a furious mental mantra of, "Down, boy, down," but it was futile. The tightening started to happen, the thickening and lengthening, the fullness. And along with that, the excitement, and the goddamn _imperative _for touch, for sensation. I'm such a fucking scoundrel, and so fucking dead. Bella will hate me, with good reason.

There was absolutely no chance whatsoever that she wouldn't notice how misshapen my pajamas had suddenly become, since I was practically in her face. All I could do was step away.

But.

In the midst of her deploring how she'd acted and apologizing, she caught sight of the inappropriateness going on right in front of her nose, and she stopped speaking.

"Uh - excuse me, I remembered I have to, um, go - " I stammered, just about to remove myself from this confrontational situation.

"No, you really don't," she said, slowly. She looked kind of hypnotized.

_Fuck_. "Yeah, I do."

Unbelievably, her hands came up and grabbed my hips, pinning me to the spot.

"Well," she said, my rude penis at a sixty degree angle, almost fully fledged, in her face.

"Ah, yes, there's a thing I need to do, somewhere that's not here - " I insisted. "My tax return. I've really got to start on it."

"_Edward._"

Her voice sounded different, sort of breathy. I tried to move back but she was holding me.

"_Edward?_"

"Uh-huh?"

"Um - could I just take a peek? I haven't been anywhere near one of these since forever."

Isabella Swan, are you fucking _crazy?_ You've just apologized for humping me a few hours ago and now you're asking to see my dick? What the hell for? I am not a fucking exhibit! This is not a museum, or an art show!

"Jesus. No! What the fuck! I'm your friend, Bella!" I exclaimed, ready to show her everything, but desperate not to make a mistake. I didn't even begin to know what was going on.

"Of course, you're right. I'm sorry. Forget it," she answered, face falling. "Forget I asked. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have come over. I'm a mess."

It sounded like she was about to cry. If she shed a single fucking tear I would fall right down on the floor and cry along with her, cry her a sea, an ocean, a cloud's worth, a skyful.

"You're not a mess, you're okay. We're okay. We're good, you and me," I assured her.

She looked back up at me, swallowing deeply, velvet dark eyes pensive and beautiful.

"Edward, you've been good to me, I appreciate it," she said. "I owe you."

.

.

.


	7. crestfallen

Crestfallen

Crestfallen, Bella raised her eyes to mine.

"We're okay? Really?" she whispered. "Despite what I did - and what I just said?"

She was so forlorn I wanted to hug her. But there was something in the way. Not that big of a something, not like a brick wall or half a cow, but something nonetheless, so I couldn't just wrap my arms around her and pull her close. I'd have poked a hole through her cheek.

"Yes. Look, just ignore me, right? I mean, ignore, um, you know. It doesn't mean anything."

Wrong. I was lying, and it did mean something. It meant a fucking lot, actually. But Bella looked like she'd just taken a kick to the guts. She looked crushed.

"No, of course not," she muttered. "_Of course not_."

Jesus. She's moody all right. She looked like I was a puppy murderer and she wanted to crawl down the nearest wormhole and disappear. She took a deep, deep breath that she just didn't let out.

"Oh, shit. It does and it doesn't, all right?" I hastened.

"That makes no sense."

"I know. I just don't want to horrify you. It means, like, ah - would you like some frittata?"

"Frittata? It means frittata?"

"Well, not generally, no. But have you had breakfast yet?"

"No."

"Is there anything I could offer you?"

Stupid, _stupid _thing to say, Edward. I was trying to change the subject, and get the focus of the conversation off my unruly appendage, but I failed completely.

"Hmm," Bella said, with the faintest suggestion of a smirk. "Maybe."

Her gaze went from my eyes to my crotch, still standing firm, and back to my eyes. It was clear she wasn't thinking about cereal. Jesus, I might be in with a chance. Shamefaced Bella from this morning and horny Bella from last night were having a showdown, right in front of me. Oh, glorious day. Could I influence the outcome at all? I tried my sexy eyebrow raise - sometimes a winner in times past, but Bella had given up looking at my face.

"I brought you breakfast, but I'm not too fond of blue vein. Cheese. Perhaps you have something else I could eat?" she said.

Oh?

I swallowed, and I couldn't shake my head. I guess she took that as a yes.

In slow motion, she reached to my waistband, pulling it out and down. And down some more, before letting go. My pajamas ski-jumped over my ass and past my thighs and fell to who-knows-where. I didn't have a fucking clue, because all the sensation in my body, along with all the blood, and I'm afraid all the brains, concentrated in one place. The place Bella Swan, erstwhile friend, had her gaze directed. And her intentions. Dick-o-rama.

So help me God.

"Wow," she said, and under the circumstances, that was the nicest thing anybody had ever said to me.

And then she went for my balls, and I was ready to propose marriage. Yeah. She slipped a hand gently in there and held, starting with a light, rhythmic squeezing, and how the fuck did she know to do that? When I recovered, I was going to be really fucking jealous of whoever she'd been with in the past.

Then her other hand left my hip to curl around my dick.

"Hello there," she crooned. "We sort of met, but we haven't been introduced properly. I'm Bella, and I'm _really _pleased to meet you."

She started stroking me, she kissed me, she brought her other hand around so it could join in the fun, and then she stopped.

"Ugh?" I managed.

Pert, cheeky, and smiling knowingly, my never-to-be-viewed-as-a-platonic-friend-again suggested, "Perhaps you should hold on to something stable?"

I'd probably been swaying. I'd be listing to fucking starboard like a drunken sailor if she kept going, and please keep going, Bella. Where did you get these mad skills for God's sake? Don't ever fucking tell me, ignorance is bliss. _You_ are bliss.

I shuffled a little so I had one hip against the table because I wanted the use of my hands. I gathered her hair up and twisted it a little as I'd seen her do the night before, so I could hold it in one hand, away from her face, and her beautiful neck, and Bella put her mouth on me again. It was just as well I'd taken her suggestion about support, because I certainly needed it. I couldn't fucking believe what was going on, but I gave myself over to the pleasure, deciding the analysis could wait for later. Shit, shit. What a warm mouth, what a supple wrist, and was that her tongue moving over me even as her lips did? Finding everywhere, soft on the tiny thread of my frenulum, firmer on the fat ridge of the underside. She even pulled my dick down from its almost upright angle to explore my corona with her tongue, so exquisitely I whined at her, helpless. Nearly out of my mind, I had one hand trembling, holding her hair, the other on her shoulder, thumb stroking her clavicle. Her tongue had me in agony. My legs were starting to shake.

It's not polite to try and prolong things when a girl's going down on you, because you don't want to give her lockjaw, and make her unwilling to ever do it again. But then, you don't want to finish in thirty seconds flat and make her think you're not worth fucking because you can't last long enough to show her a good time. And Jesus, it's not fucking polite to shoot your load in someone's mouth, it's just not.

Leaning heavily against the table, watching Bella through eyes I could barely keep open, I was hoping to hell I'd be able to give her advance warning of the tidal wave about to overtake me. It was all so fucking good. _She_ was so fucking good. I was transported to another state of being and losing my grip on the floor, hanging in space, lost in sensation, panting and alternating between staring at nothing, and watching the crown of her head dipping over me, the dark gloss of her hair and the grace of her shoulders. She was so beautiful, and I couldn't even see her face.

Then she slipped a hand to my balls again, and I nearly bit a hole in my lip. She was stroking my perineum and I let go of her hair with a gasp. Shit, shit. Shit!

"Bella, Bella, stop - it's happening."

I grabbed my dick and pulled it out of her mouth, looking around frantically. There on the table were the paper napkins she'd brought. I just managed to grasp them up, all of them, pumping myself because I was coming, and then I gushed. And gushed. Oh Lord, there was a lot of it, the handful of paper napkins was barely enough to catch the outpouring. I was dimly aware that Bella had put her arm around my lower waist and she was kissing my hip, head turned to watch the fountain. It was the strongest orgasm I'd ever had in my life, and the most copious.

Afterwards I tossed the soggy napkins into the garbage disposal, panting, and I leaned down to kiss the top of Bella's head. I was fucking shattered. My _essence_ had been drawn out of me. Normally I'm good after coming, I mean it's a frequent enough occurrence, but this was different.

I kissed her hair again, and wanted to fall down with her and curl up until I was compos mentis enough to reciprocate, but I didn't know if I could ask her to join me on the floor. Fuck, I didn't know if I could ask her to join me in a little more comfort, in my bed, and just as soon as I recovered, we could - what did she call it? Go for gold?

"Uh - just give me a minute," I mumbled, slumping onto the nearest chair. She and I needed to talk, after I licked her out and made her feel boneless and delirious, just like me.

I closed my eyes.

And wouldn't you just know it, when I opened them again, literally seconds later, Bella Swan was gone. Fucking gone. I was in perfect working order, or I would be in another twenty minutes or so, and ready to return her favor, with relish, and _interest_, and she wasn't there. A quick check of my apartment revealed that she wasn't anywhere.

Oh.

I needed to think about this. Bella Swan liked beer and tequila. She was a smartass, and intriguing. I liked it when she was quiet with me and far off, and when she was fired-up and mouthy.

When she was being thoughtful I loved her insights. When she was sassy I just about laughed my ass off at her.

And here, now, after a couple of years of appreciating that she was a girl, while not noticing the very same fact, I'd discovered she was the sexiest girl I'd ever met. And that was without the two of us even getting naked!

In other words, she was lovely, challenging, and perfect.

Lately, however, she had taken to running away from me. So what was I going to do about all this?

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Oh. Yeah. This new comment feature - I don't get it. It tells me if I log in I can moderate them - but where? How? And why would I if no-one else can see them anyway? Call me slow - I just don't understand.


	8. after showering

After showering

After showering, I flew down the stairs. I mean, like rocket boots flew. I didn't even touch the carpet.

There was no response to my knock on her door. I knocked again, waited, knocked again, waited. Where the feck are you, Sweetness? Pulling out my phone I texted, and got the same answer from my phone that I got from the door - nothing.

Okay. I just hoped she'd gone to the store or something, and not fucking left town again. Calm down, Edward. People always go to the store, right? In the morning, before the rush at lunchtime? Yeah. I had stuff to do anyway, domestic things like vacuuming, and changing my bedsheets and cleaning the bathroom. I could keep myself busy and pop back downstairs in an hour or so.

But she wasn't back in an hour.

I swept my kitchen floor and tidied up in the living room and rang my sister for her birthday, killing another hour quite nicely. Bella still wasn't home. Or answering her phone.

I went to a movie. I didn't even fucking watch it, just sat in the cinema with my cell on, which you're not supposed to do. But I was waiting for an important call. It didn't come.

Back at our block, I dropped by the bar. Marcus was on duty at the door.

"Have you seen Bella going in or out today?" I asked him.

"Nope. I just started, though. Everything all right?"

"Yeah, sure. Fine."

Like hell.

I tried her door, again, to no avail, and then decided to go downstairs. If she came past, I'd know about it. This was a stakeout.

It wasn't like me to be in there at three in the afternoon - a fact Dimitri commented on as soon as I sat next to him. I got a couple of messages from friends asking me to meet up, and I replied that I was already busy. Busy waiting on a girl. Busy being a wallflower. By nine I hadn't moved, other than trips to the bathroom during which I'd asked D to keep an eye out for Bella for me.

"What's up with you two?" he'd asked, after the fourth time, because he'd been plying me with beers and by then I needed the bathroom every five minutes.

"Nushing," I assured him. "I jush need to seer, thassall."

Normally, I think I have an iron constitution and I can drink most people under the table, but a six hour session with D had rendered me rather shabby. Well, shit, I hadn't eaten since this morning. Actually - this morning had featured the frittata, which had taken pride of place in my kitchen reminding me of its bringer until I found a container for it and put it in the fridge. Turned out Bella wasn't too averse to a bit of blue vein after all, hadn't it? Oh, shut up.

Eleven rolled around and I had to start thinking about the possibility that she wouldn't show. Why not? Either she wasn't coming home, or she had been home all day and hiding from me, or she'd been out since this morning and she'd gotten back in without me seeing her, which was distinctly possible because by now I couldn't see three feet in front of me.

I bid D goodnight, asking him to pass a message on if he saw Bella.

"Sure. What shall I tell her?"

"Ah - shay - um - "

"Edward says um?"

"No! Um - "

Dimitri started to smirk. "There is something going on, isn't there? About time you two kids got together."

"What're you shalkingbout?"

"Oh, come on. You're both in here week after week, getting on like a house on fire. You're both unattached. She's gorgeous, you're - well, I've seen worse."

"Shank you so mush."

I made my way pitiably upstairs. There was no thin line of light under Bella's door to indicate that she was there. Well, crap fuckity-fuck. What sort of girl would hang around with you for two years, creeping her way under your skin with you barely even noticing how important she'd become, then wave her boobies in your face before taking them, and herself, away for _weeks,_ leaving you bereft, then turn up again and perpetrate a devastating act upon your person that left you insensible with longing, then mere hours later commit another overwhelming act, then not answer your calls?

Sunday I was seeing my parents, and there was no word from Ms Swan. Not a peep. I was brutally hungover, but I'd worked out a script and I knew what I was going to say to her if I got the chance. It was along the lines of, "Can I see you? Soon? It's not about yesterday morning. Well, it sort of is, but not in the way you might think. Not in the way of asking for any more, please don't imagine that. Well, it's sort of related to that but it's more about Friday night, too. But that's not all it's about, because I really think we should talk. We talk all the time anyway, right? Just more talking, that's what I want to see you about. So, anyway, yeah. Let's talk, okay? Your place or mine, or downstairs - whatever you prefer. I just want to see you. You know, soon."

So I was working on this speech in my pounding head, and lunch was pretty grim, with my mother saying brightly, "Oh, Edward - when are you going to meet a nice girl and get over this partying? You're twenty-seven years old. What about your liver?"

My father, who doesn't drink, gave me the cirrhosis talk, and spiced it up with a cautionary tale about someone he'd heard of who drank so much that he got lesions in his throat and lost his voice for good. Thank you, Dad. No, I sure wouldn't like that to happen to me, you're absolutely right.

And back at home, there'd been no sightings of the newly-elusive Ms Swan. Sunday night came and went. How many times could I call her without it getting creepy? How many messages could I send? How many notes under the door?

Work that week, and the following weeks, was a bastard, because my firm had pitched for nine new accounts, figuring on getting three of them. We'd been awarded eight. My workload increased beyond what anyone could be reasonably expected to achieve. I was getting in there at the crack of dawn and not leaving until late, and was nowhere near getting through what I needed to get through. My manager hired two recruits, giving me the job of training them. Fucking great. Two smartasses straight out of college with their architecture degrees, full of promise and hot air, and neither of them with a fucking clue about things actually happened in the real world.

Every night I stopped hopefully by Bella's door and every night carried on upstairs, unanswered and increasingly forlorn. And starting to get pretty pissed, too. What had all the camaraderie and good times of the last two years been worth to her if she was avoiding me now? Why would she be so scared? All she had to do, surely, was say, "Uh, Edward, gee, I guess I love you, let's get it on," or "Oh, Edward, you're a sex god and I couldn't help myself, but I'm over it now," or "Well, duh, that was a huge mistake, wasn't it? It'll never happen again, so let's meet for some slammers and forget about all that whole episode."

But silence reigned, and shit, I was so fucking tired. Exhausted with twelve hour workdays, and worn down by the disappearance of Bella.

Then one of the college graduates said it was her birthday on Friday and she was having drinks downtown with a few friends. Would I like to come? Oh, I am so not a rung for you to climb on your ladder to success I thought, until I found she'd invited the whole office. All right then. The message had been received loud and clear with relation to Ms Swan, after all. I could go for a few drinks, mix with some new people. I was single, unattached, untaken. And it was time I met a nice girl.

There were about a dozen nice girls there, as it happened, and I spoke to every one of them. Victoria, amazing hair. Rosalie, amazing legs. Siobhan, amazing accent. A few weeks ago I would have been in heaven. A few weeks ago I would not have gone home unaccompanied.

But I'd developed a headache by ten-thirty, and just couldn't stay. I found Bree, my new assistant, and made my apologies before hailing a cab outside.

Aro's was busy, as usual for a Friday night. Laurent was on and he gave me a really strange look as I passed him.

"Wassup?" I asked, and he just shook his head. Shrugging, I was about to head for the staircase when I had the thought that more beer wouldn't go down too badly. Not in the bar, hell, I'd left one crowd behind, I wasn't in the mood for another. No, I'd just have a quiet word to whoever was managing, and I'd get a couple of takeaways to nurse on my own, upstairs.

So in I went, weaving through talking people and dancing people and drinking people, all the way to the bar itself, opposite the door. And crap - there she was, the object of all my recent worries, the focus of my fervent wishing - Bella Swan. She was giving money to Alec, who was handing over two bottles of wine. Oh, Bella. Let me help you with that.

As I nudged my way through to get to her, remembering with a smile that she had no proper glasses and in the past at her place we'd drunk from rinsed out jam-jars, Alec passed her two wine glasses. Coming up to see me, finally, are you Sweetness?

She nodded a thank you to Alex, then turned. There was some guy standing next to her I'd never seen before. Tall, brown-skinned, short black hair. He smiled at her, taking the bottle and the glasses, and bent to kiss her cheek. The _fucker! _Before my astonished eyes, he cleared a way through everybody for her, and the two of them left.

"What the _fuck?_" I said to Dimitri a second later.

He looked nearly as taken aback as I felt.

"Dude," he said. "_Jeez_. Dude."

.

.

.

Here's the thing. I never had an anonymous review EVER until these recent changes by ffn. If you want to leave an anonymous review, fine. But bear in mind, no-one here is using their REAL NAME. I am not really called jackqueenking. I don't care if you don't want to identify yourself/ves, but what if I really like your review and I want to get a dialogue going? If 8 people are calling themselves Anonymous, how do I know which is which? Come on, now. Out of the shadows, here baby, into the light. Call yourself whatever you want, I'll call you that too.


	9. well, shit

Well, shit.

Well, shit. As in, _shit_. Fuck my life. My non-life - career hell, love waste-land, and parental dismay. Oh yeah.

Two beers wasn't going to see me through this crisis. How and when could Bella have met someone else? Granted, thanks to the recent stellar success of the firm I worked for I'd been inhabiting a time-swallowing twilight zone for how long? Oh, the magic three weeks, of course. How the fuck could she be down there in her apartment right now with a cheek-kissing blow-in of a guy, who no doubt would be already moving on to ending her sexual drought before they'd finished the first bottle of whatever the fuck it was she'd bought downstairs? I wanted to go to her apartment and stop them. He doesn't know you like I do, I'd say. When did you meet him? He's a total stranger! You don't mean anything to him!

Oh, Jesus, I didn't know what had gone wrong. Dimitri didn't know what had gone wrong, and he knows everything. And shit - no wonder Laurent had been uneasy when he saw me. He knew Bella was in there with Mr Tall Dark and Random.

Given my current level of fatigue though, two beers were apparently my ticket to dreamland. I woke at four am on the couch. Miserable.

I fared no better the next morning, having barely slept in the interim. Could I start drinking yet? Eight am - why not? I had all Saturday to kill, shit. It was going to last hours. What the fuck was I going to do with myself? Then Saturday night. Fuck. Maybe I could go into the office and just keep working. Maybe I could call RosemarySineadVeronica? I hadn't taken any phone numbers, but Bree would have them. Would one of her friends take pity on me? Hang out with me? Fuck me? Yes, all three of them would, and maybe even all at the same time. Each of them had appeared keen last night, in their tight city dresses with their makeup and high heels and their long, perfectly conditioned hair in textured silken waves looking like they'd just auditioned for shampoo ads. Just my type, each of them. A hazel-eyed redhead, a blue-eyed blonde, and the green-eyed Irish girl with hair like coal. Where was my phone? B for Bree, scroll down. Which one was I going to ask for? Didn't even care. Oh, Jesus, that was the truth. I didn't care. And I wasn't sure which name had gone with which coloring. Shona or Shauna or something? Valerie? Roseanne?

I couldn't ring anyone, not with being unable to remember names, or put names to faces. So, forget it. They were all too polished, or artificial, or shiny or something, anyway.

Coffee. Damnit, I wanted coffee. And a lungful of cigarettes, if only I smoked. Shower first, then the nearest coffee shop. Or maybe one on the other side of town, just because. I have instantaneous hot water in my bathroom, which never runs out and I stood under the stream blanking my thoughts to anything except - fuck.

Passing Bella's door, I nearly had a heart attack when it opened. So did she, coming face to face with me.

"Edward!" she squeaked.

"Uh-huh."

"I - hi. I was just on my way up to see you."

Yeah? And where's your new friend? And what does he think about that? And where the hell have you _been?_

"Uh-huh."

"Are you okay? You look - tired. Are you tired?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh, so you're kind of not talking. Are you angry with me?"

I didn't bother with the syllables that weren't words anyway, and figured that my silence would convey my answer. Not just angry, Bella. Oh, no. It's gone rather further than that.

"Well, so, anyway, I got in last night and about fell over the mound of notes you'd left under my door, and - oh, were you on your way some place?"

"Uh-huh."

Now that she was right there in front of me, I was angry all right. _She wasn't even fucking dressed, for Chrissake._ She was in sweats and a tanktop. Like she'd just gotten out of bed and thrown them on.

"Hey, Bella?" a deep voice asked from behind her.

"Be right back," she called over her shoulder.

Jesus, Bella! After what happened between us - what we _shared_, you're capable of bringing a guy to _our _bar, bringing him up _our _stairs, taking him to your stupid apartment and appearing in front of me the next morning tousled and sleepy with him still there, and you're saying you were going to come see me? At the same time as you're telling him you're just about to go back in to him? Am I _angry?_

You bet your ass.

"Gotta head off," I muttered, and I turned around to get the hell out of there. The least she could do was get rid of that fucking guy and talk to me with him gone. Fucking _gone_.

"Edward?"

I was determined to leave her there and get coffee. Get on with my life, actually. But really, after pining so seriously for her for weeks, when she called my name, I couldn't leave. Couldn't storm off in high dudgeon. I stopped my progress down the hall and waited for her to catch up to me.

"So, well, Edward, the thing is, there've been a couple of developments since I saw you last. Big things. I need to let you know some stuff."

Fucking kill me now. Big things like you found yourself a boyfriend? "Uh-huh."

"Jesus, will you at least come back to my place and sit down? So I can tell you what's been going on?"

That last uh-huh actually got to her, and she scowled. "And stop acting so fucking pissy." I got the Bella swat on the arm.

"Help. Police. Assault," I responded. One of our jokes. "I was going for coffee."

"I've got some. Blue Mountain," she offered.

"You do not. It's fucking kona."

I followed her, very reluctantly, to her door and through it, thinking abandon your heart and your balls, all ye who enter here.

The big guy was sitting on her sofa leafing through a magazine, but he got to his feet and approached, looking me up and down. From his great height. Then he put his arm around Bella, who squirmed a little. I wanted to hit him.

"Well, Edward, meet Seth," she said.

I nodded. Meet my fist, drought-breaker.

"So," he said, when I didn't extend my hand. "Edward. Take a seat."

The fucking nerve. He gestured to Bella's couch, beyond her coffee table where two empty wine bottles stood, alongside two empty glasses.

Noticing the direction of my gaze, Bella shrugged. "We were celebrating."

"Our new relationship," he added.

I sat on the couch I'd occupied hundreds of times before, amongst the mayhem and debris of Bella's surroundings. She lacked the tidy gene. I'm very tidy myself, and felt compelled to remind her regularly 'don't booby-trap your home. Always leave yourself a thoroughfare', and she never took any notice. Or maybe she did. Maybe things were even worse before I came around. Whatever.

She scooped up an elastic band from the floor which she deftly twisted into her hair, and hey presto! secured half of the shaggy stuff behind her ears, and she leaned forward earnestly.

"Edward, after I saw you last, for um, breakfast, um, I went out, for some fresh air."

Um, breakfast, um. Never heard it called that before. Seth frowned and I frowned right back. What the fuck was I doing there?

"And anyway, I got a call from my dad, and he said it was urgent, and I had to go see him straight away. Like, immediately. He was panicking. So I didn't even come back to the apartment, I just drove directly to his place. The highway goes through Port Angeles, and I met Seth there and took him with me. It turned out Sue had said something to Dad about when he'd make an honest woman of her, and he'd been waiting _years_ for her to give an indication she was ready for that kind of step, her being a widow, and he wanted the wedding organized pronto, before she could change her mind. So I've been staying at Seth's, sending work back to the office from there, and wedding planning for my dad at the same time."

Okay. Bella edited articles for magazines, and she could work from anywhere as long as there was a reliable connection. I knew that. But what the fuck did the inclusion of _Seth_ have to do with it? She'd picked up this arbitrary guy and involved him in her family, just like that?

"I rang you," I muttered, because, really, I was lost.

"Oh, fuck, I had my phone in my hand and I opened a can of soda and it sprayed everywhere and then my phone didn't work anymore. I couldn't even access my contacts list."

"You couldn't email? You disappeared. I was worried."

"I don't know your email address."

Well, her phone bit the dust. Well, she couldn't email. Well, her dad needed her and she ran to help him. None of these things explained the fucking hookup with whatsisname.

"Okay," I said, standing up, terminally heartbroken. "I'm glad everything's all right. That's great news about Charlie and Sue. Tell him I wish them all the best. And I wish you and Seth all the best too." I nearly choked on this last one.

"Me and Seth? Yeah, right. He _forced_ me to do things I didn't want to do. He had me in a deathgrip, I couldn't get away, he _dragged_ me around - "

He _what?_ He _WHAT?_ I didn't care how big he was. As hard as I could, I punched the bastard.

.

.

.


	10. Bella screamed

Bella screamed

Bella screamed.

Seth staggered a little, gaping at me in astonishment, while I gaped back at him. He was made of iron. My hand fucking _hurt. _But not as much as his face was going to.

"What the fuck, Edward? What the fuck are you doing?" Bella was shouting, trying to grab me.

"Call the police," I growled to her, right arm more or less disabled, but ready to lose the use of my left as well in her defense.

"What for? To tell them you've gone troppo?"

"You just said this douchebag _forced_ you," I hissed.

"I didn't mean what you're thinking. What are you thinking? You've got it wrong!"

"Wrong how?"

Holding his chin and smirking, Seth said, "Man, you really need to chill."

"_You_ fucking chill, motherfucker," I ordered. "Bella? What _did_ you mean?"

"He didn't _actually_ force me, I just didn't want to do it but I went along with it anyway because he would have made such a fuss if I didn't..."

I hit him again. This time he went down.

"Jesus!" Bella cried, "You fucking caveman!" and she shoved me. From the floor, Seth started to laugh.

"I see what's going on here," he said.

"Well, fuck - so do I! Edward is a psycho!" Bella shrieked.

"_I'm _a psycho?"

"_Yes!_"

To my amazement, Bella hoisted a vase of flowers she had sitting on a side table, and threw the whole lot over me. Dripping and covered in petals, I stared at her, a watchful eye on Seth at the same time.

"You look lovely," he said. "Like Ophelia."

"Shut the fuck up. And stand up," I growled at him. I couldn't hit him if he was on the floor.

But Bella had disappeared from my field of vision. Looking around, I saw her scoping the room, frowning, until her gaze came back and caught the wine bottles. She picked one up and advanced towards me, holding it in front of her like a sword.

Unbelievable. Giant stranger-boy does something to her without her consent and she wants to hit _me_ with a bottle. Fuck my life.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" I demanded, as Seth got to his feet. "Not you," I added pointedly before turning back to the tiny menace with the weapon, Bella.

"_You_ tell me," I ordered.

"Will you stop hitting Seth? Can you _behave_?" she asked.

"Bella, you said he made you do things you didn't want, you said he _forced_ you - "

"Yes, he did - he made me go _shopping!_"

My jaw dropped. "He what?"

"He dragged me to all these stupid stores to pick out stuff for the wedding! He hauled me around fucking boutiques and malls and plazas driving me completely insane! I _hate _shopping!"

Yeah, I knew she did. That's why she had no wine glasses.

"But Bella, I thought - I thought you were saying he'd hurt you. That he'd - well - " I stopped, because I couldn't bring myself to say what I thought she'd meant. The idea of anyone hurting Bella made me feel unhinged.

She didn't even have the grace to look contrite. "Okay. Well. _Perhaps _from what I said you _could _have inferred - what you inferred - if you were a _lunatic_, but fuck - if anything like that had happened - do you think he'd be here now? Because _no_ - duh. You didn't have to _attack_ him, Edward."

"_Yeah_," Seth said, looking smug.

My muscles were still tensed, teeth still gritted, as I considered her point. Okay. Maybe if somebody assaults you, you don't invite him home to your apartment and then give him alcohol and let him stay the night.

Seth cleared his throat. "Look, Edward, it was a misunderstanding. And dude - I'd want to kill anyone who harmed Bella too, so kudos to you. That's a hell of a punch you're packing. You must be doing some training. "

Yes, I train. Yes, I can punch. But there's still a whole lot here that needs clarifying, bozo, so never mind your fucking kudos.

I was glaring at both of them, while Bella had her arms crossed over her chest defiantly and her chin jutting out, glaring back at me. Stalemate. Seth broke what was becoming a protracted silence with, "How about I go find something to clean up this spillage?"

He went to the kitchen leaving Bella and me motionless, neither about to back down. My head was racing with questions.

So - you met this guy in Port Angeles? How exactly? And then why were you staying with him? Wasn't that pretty _sudden?_ And why did you get him involved in your dad's wedding? And why did you bring him _here?_ And what was the fucking "celebrating our relationship" remark all about?

Fuck. She didn't want me to hit Seth's pretty face, and he hadn't done anything untoward that harmed her. Fine.

Well, actually not fine. Nothing was fine, especially me. At all. Jesus, Sweetness. Warn a guy before you sneak up on him over a two year period with a best friend thing, then grind on him and come _all over him_, then suck his dick as if you really like it, then leave him choking on your dust while you replace him in a matter of days, and flaunt his successor in front of him.

"Bella?"

"Don't even. _Don't even_. I'm mad at you."

"You're mad at me? For defending you? Right."

"For - for - _right._"

We glowered at each other, but inside, I was feeling acute pain.

"Is that all you're going to say?" I asked finally, wanting an apology for her disappearing and not contacting me, and then re-appearing with this unexplained man who even I could see was major eye-candy. And now that I knew he hadn't hurt her, I could grudgingly admit that perhaps, yeah, he was open and friendly, and maybe even a nice guy, which made me worried sick, along with screamingly jealous. Please, Bella. Give me some sort of reassurance.

"Is that all _you're_ going to say?" she retorted, still sounding affronted and hostile, which wasn't reassuring at all.

Meanwhile Seth had come back and started wiping the coffee table.

"How did this much water fit in a vase that size? And you've ruined the flowers I brought you. Nice mess, Bella."

"Any time. Well - sorry I broke your vase."

He'd given her the flowers? I should have guessed he'd brought the fucking vase too, since I knew she didn't have one. With her apartment being in the lamentable state it was, I'd tried any number of times to get her interested in making the place more comfortable and stylish. I'd even employed subterfuge - "Oh, Bella, I've found this awesome cafe, it's in a department store, let's meet for lunch, their tiramisu is the best," and steered her through kitchen sections and home furnishings before we got to the food. The first time it almost worked.

"Oh, look, Bella - a saucepan set. Matching cookware would be great, wouldn't it?" For a microsecond she'd appeared interested, but eagerness for sweet treats had gotten the better of her.

"Edward, I don't care if the lids on my pots don't fit, and if the handles fall off and I have to pick the fucking things up off the element using an oven mitt."

"Bella, when you cook rice it would actually turn out okay if the fucking lid fitted, and you wouldn't risk third-degree burns if you had pots with handles."

"Who cares? Where's my dessert?"

For all my troubles I'd been given looks that could have withered leaves off trees, so I was well aware of Bella's aversion to shopping.

And being taken to shops was what she was complaining about with Vase-boy? Jesus - from the way she'd carried on I'd thought he - and here he was, kneeling on her floor, mopping up, while I tried to catch my breath. Shit.

Having done a creditable job, Seth stood.

"How about you two declare a truce and we all get out of here so we're off the wet carpet? There must be someplace close by where we can we grab pancakes?" he suggested. "Because I am fucking starving. Bella doesn't have any food in the house. I don't know how you survive, girl."

Get off her case, I thought. Even if what you're saying is true. She never has any fucking food because she doesn't like cooking. Probably why she's so thin.

And Seth was still going with the helpful hints, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

"You're going to need a change of clothes there, buddy, you're pretty wet. And covered in flower residue. That's probably not a look often seen in downtown Seattle at this time of the morning."

Downtown Seattle was going to have to wait five minutes for the glory of me, because as Seth as pointed out so rightly, I was soaked and needed to get changed.

"Come on upstairs, let's all go - you'll like Edward's apartment," Bella remarked to Seth before I could protest, and next thing I knew they were crowding behind me in my little vestibule, surging into my living room.

"Well," Seth said gazing around, while Bella went straight to the fridge as always, looking for chocolate as always and finding it, as always.

It only took me a matter of minutes to shower and dress, and get back to my guests.

I'm not a pig, and I don't live in a sty. As an architect, I have plenty of friends and contacts in the interior design world, and I like my comfort. My place combines the practical and the luxurious. When Bella came here, she usually looked around and said, "Jesus, you suck. Have you got any beer?" because of her taste bypass, which I have been willing to overlook for the sake of friendship.

Seth, however, seemed interested in more than beer and chocolate.

"I like how you've combined your textures," he said. "And I love the achromatics against the triadics."

Just hang on a minute. Nobody normal knows these words.

Bella, where did you meet this guy?

"Pardon?" I said.

"Is that a Biers?" He pointed to my desk. Well, shit. It was.

"And your standard lamp. It's mid-century. Kachiri?"

Seth, you just got a whole lot more interesting. For a douchebag.

He gestured around. "Jeez - did you take this on as a furnished apartment? Or did you get in a designer?"

"No. I redecorated myself once I took over the lease."

Seth raised an eyebrow as Bella came out of the kitchen.

"Oh yeah, Edward," she sniffed. "His mother is arty-farty-la-la-la. He thinks you can put purple and orange together just because of his last name."

As it happened, my mother was a designer of renown, but why Bella should be announcing that fact to Seth I had no idea.

"What's your last name?" he asked.

"Cullen."

"_Cullen?_" he queried. "You mean - as in Esme Cullen - House of EC?"

"Yeah."

"Ooooo-kaaayyy. Christ. Why didn't you say so? Jesus, Bella, you've been holding out. Jesus, Edward - how busy are you? Can you get a day off work during the week? Can you help me put this wedding together? Because quite honestly, Bella is fucking hopeless, and the situation is desperate."

Weirder and weirder and weirder. Was I on drugs? I just couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Bella asked, rolling her eyes. "You two dress the room or whatever you call it, and adorn the tables and select the flowers for the bridal bouquet, and I can have some fucking peace! Go on, Edward. Say you'll do it."

"Seriously, man," Seth said. "Her dad booked an empty hall to hold the whole event in, and it's in dire need of some vision and artistry. Bella hasn't a fucking clue what to do about it and I could really use some help."

I stared at him. "Who are you, again? Where do you fit in here?"

"I'm the wedding designer," he said.

Lord. A wedding designer.

"Go on, Edward. Please. Save me," Bella implored. "And then you can come to the wedding. Free food. All you can drink. Bridesmaids in silk stockings."

Oh, Bella. You're going to put it like that? Does the daughter of the groom wear silk stockings?

Because if she does ...

I'm there.

.

.

.


	11. as we waited

As we waited

As we waited downstairs for Bella to change into her usual jeans and sweatshirt, Seth was really gracious about me whacking him in the face twice, saying he fully understood. He agreed that Bella had been less than clear in her account of events leading up to the whacking. Then Bella reappeared and pronounced me a testosterone-fuelled thug, saying again, "Edward - seriously, come on. Would I actually hang out with a guy who _assaulted_ me, or would I get the hell out of there and go to the nearest cop shop and file charges?"

Fair point. I apologized to Seth, albeit grudgingly, because well, _shit_. I have an aversion to handsome men being around Bella when they're unexplained overnighters.

I owed Bella a grudging apology as well, for misinterpreting what she'd said and reacting without getting the whole story. Quite frankly I thought Granite-Man should be saying sorry to me for having a face made of stone that he'd hurt my hand with, and Sweetness should have been saying sorry for being so confounding. Something huge and unspoken continued to hang in the air between her and me, but we couldn't discuss it in present company. We _really_ fucking needed to talk about - how shall I put it? - about what we'd done. Touching, moving, sighing, wrapping around - her thighs and my hips, her mouth and my dick. The whole getting off, orgasm stuff. The totally unexpected we're-good-friends-fancy-us-just-suddenly-overstepping-that-line-and-going-pelvic business.

And I needed to know, though the answer would probably kill me, how she'd then managed to not only go away, but to _stay_ away from me for so long after - after what had amounted to an enlightenment for me. Her absence had been distressing. Had it affected her? Well, no, apparently not, because she had Seth.

Yes_, Seth_. Fuck. Just to round off the whole debacle that had been the last twelve hours, the three of us walked to the diner on the next block where the wonderful Seth consumed more than I'd ever seen another human eat. While he was throwing food down his throat like he thought there'd be a shortage any minute, I ate a respectable amount at a respectable speed, burning to know what was going on with him and Bella. Time to delve.

"So, Seth." Addressing him directly.

"Mmm-mm?"

"What's your deal?"

"Mmm-mm."

His deal was that he could cram a whole breakfast burrito into one mouthful, with a side of fries and some field-mushrooms too. At least he didn't chew with his mouth open. Thank Christ for that.

"You're a wedding designer? Which is what?"

Coming to the rescue, Bella answered while he was still working the burrito.

"No, he's just doing it to help out. He's kind of - well, he's - oh, how do you describe yourself?" she said.

Seth swallowed and gulped down half a pint of orange juice.

"I have my own business doing commercial interior design, specialising in office refurbishments. I've been doing it for three years now. What I do is re-fits, where a company decides they want to update the look of their offices, or maybe they move into a building and want to strip out what the previous occupants had, and move partitions around, change the floor and wall coverings, whatever. I consult with the clients and put together new concepts for them, and if required, I project-manage the operation."

You're fucking kidding! Don't. I need someone like you really badly right now, because Bree and the other girl she started with were taken on to do this sort of shit and they're struggling with the volume of work, as well as their own inexperience. What a shame I disliked you on sight, because you and I combining forces would really benefit both of us. If you're any good.

"So you don't plan weddings for a living?" I pressed.

"Hell, no. Never done it before."

"Do you have a portfolio of your design work?"

"Sure. It's expansive. Here's my card, with my web address. Take a look."

Like I'd check his website out. I was just making conversation. I fucking hated him, because why would Bella have stayed with him in Port Angeles if he was just some guy her father was employing? It kept coming back to me that since she and I both had one bedroom apartments, it wasn't like Seth had slept in her spare room last night. And I knew her couch wasn't big enough for him. No-one's fucking couch would be big enough for Gigantor. Added to that he probably had a dick like a fucking Subway Footlong. It couldn't possibly fit in her mouth - it couldn't fit anywhere except a motorway underpass or an aeroplane hangar. That was of very little comfort to me in my rapidly worsening mood.

"Well, Edward. You're an architect and everything," Bella was saying. "Perhaps you'd be a useful contact for Seth. Perhaps you could help him with prospective clients... or maybe he could help you."

"Maybe," I answered, in a tone that said anything but, and deliberately looking away all the while so that I could signal to the waiter that we wanted our check.

It came, we paid, and we were out of there, walking back to the apartment block.

"Okay then, you two have lots to talk about," Bella remarked.

"We do, huh?" I asked her.

"The _wedding _- you agreed - oh God, have you forgotten already?"

The fucking wedding. Crap. Yes, I'd conveniently forgotten. "When is it?"

Seth named a date that was two weeks away.

"_Two weeks?_" I repeated.

"I know, right? Oh, I'm glad you're on board and I don't have to worry so much any more," Bella said, oblivious to my sudden panic. She took my arm, leaning in towards me, oblivious to my sudden imminent heart attack as I was torn between scowling and melting.

"What actually has to be done?"

"Just organizing the room, really," Seth replied. "I mean, it's bare, man. No floor coverings, no drapes, nothing. Zero vibe. So tables and chairs, and then some sort of decor... They've said we can paint, if we want to."

"That's about it, I think," Bella said happily. "Oh, Edward, thank you. Really."

She had to be kidding.

"Bella - I haven't been involved in anything like this before either. Of course, I know how to put a room together but I've no idea what Charlie would like, and I don't know what would be appropriate. Some input from you would help," I said. "Even just a general _direction_..."

"Well as far as what Charlie likes, Edward, the last time he got married I was just a sparkle in his eye, so I really don't know what he expects from a wedding. I'm sure you and Seth will come up with plenty of ideas which would be perfect. If there's anything I can do, just ask. But someone else has to be the boss of this, so that I can be there for Dad on the day if he needs me. I'm his only family."

Gazing up at me, her eyes were unsure and pleading. Okay, I got it. Her father's wedding was really, really big for her. Her earnestness made her look so soft and pretty. But Bella...

"_Anything_?" I repeated, quietly.

Something flickered on her face. An acknowledgement of the deeper implication of the word 'anything', with particular relevance to our situation. It wasn't about the wedding, or about Seth. Just the two of _us_. Ask you _any_thing, Bella? I want to ask you _some_thing. I want to know what's happening in Bellaville. And I want to know _soon._

Meanwhile, Seth was musing.

"Everyone loves weddings, right? It'll be a breeze. There's a baseline of goodwill, after all. All the guests are there hoping for the best. We'll just make sure the room doesn't feel sterile and unwelcoming and that there's enough food, with plates to eat it off, and there's music. Love will win the day."

I was glad he was on topic. Someone had to be. He seemed to feeling positive about the whole situation, while I felt like kicking a wall. But then, he got laid last night, didn't he? By my girl. Who he'd presumably been screwing for the last three weeks. It was going to drive me crazy having to be around him. I felt halfway crazy already.

"Bella, could I have a quick word with you? Privately?" I asked, because I really had to know.

Her expression immediately showed alarm. "Are you changing your mind, Edward? Do you want to pull out?"

Jesus, Bella. Be a little more careful with your choice of words, please? A vision leapt straight into my head of me doing just that - pulling out - with her beneath me flushed and panting, and me panting too, just about to - fuck, Edward. Stop it. Now you're three-quarters crazy, congratulations.

"No." If I was inside her I'd want to stay there. Fuck.

"What is it, then?"

"Seth, could you excuse us?"

Seth shrugged and Bella frowned.

"Edward, Seth's come all this way and he's only here for a couple more hours. Could you and I talk later? Or could you just say whatever it is in front of him?"

Sure. Okay. Here goes. Bella, come upstairs with me and let's take all our clothes off and make love until we're too tired to keep going, and then when we're pleasantly exhausted let's talk about how we're going to make it a regular thing, like daily, or even hourly, and we'll combine households and get a joint bank account and a puppy and we'll visit your Dad and stepmom for Christmases and my parents for New Years. You want me to say this in front of Seth? Oh, yeah, your precious Seth. _Ditch_ him.

"No."

She huffed. She hung back. Oh, this was bad. Eventually she said, "Well, how about a health drink?"

Well, fuck. "Health drinks" were another of our things. We sometimes met in the bar on Sunday mornings, after having spent Saturday nights there, and we'd have a Bloody Mary each. Both of us fuzzy and tired, we'd gently snark at each other with half-open eyes, slouching on the bench seats. We'd never invited anyone else, but darling Seth was apparently so firmly accepted into her life that she'd include him in the exclusive Edward and Bella Health Drink Club.

Fine. Whatever you say. I'll do the ordering, and I'll get mine half and half with the vodka and tomato juice, thanks. And I'm not talking about you and me in Seth's presence anyway, Bella, so don't even bother thinking I will. Just lead me to the bar.

In we went and down we sat. We got the drinks, complete with celery sticks and lemon wedges and salt and pepper and tabasco, and I felt as healthy as a horse. Bella only stayed at the table for two seconds, and then wandered away to talk to Dimitri, leaving me with Hulk. Hulk turned a beer coaster over to its blank side and drew the proportions of the upcoming torture chamber, which he insisted on calling the wedding venue, and tried to start workshopping concepts with me.

And fuck it all to hell, his ideas were great. He was easy-going and funny, and if I ever introduced him to my circle of friends he'd fit in like a foundation member.

So Seth, just go and get fucked. By someone I don't know.

How many reasons do you need to detest someone?

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Am I getting rec'd somewhere? I have more readers than I would have expected, which is very nice. Thank you, everyone. Mwah.


	12. all too soon

All too soon

All too soon we found ourselves back in my apartment, Bella looking expectant and Seth looking through my bookcase. The atmosphere was relaxed, not.

Silence stretched as I tried to work out quite how this ridiculous situation had come to envelop me in its heavy sludge. Despite having been invited to the wedding, there wasn't really a bright spark anywhere on my horizon, other than the fact that Bella's new boyfriend lived a long way out of town. She couldn't see him very often unless she decided to relocate. Maybe I could kick his ass all the way to the moon, and she wouldn't be able to see him at all.

Fuck, it was quiet as a tomb and I could hear the sound of my life ticking away, alongside the dry whispering of the pages Seth was turning.

"Right. First things first. What's the budget?" I sighed.

The figure Bella quoted wasn't enough to decorate a shoebox, never mind a community hall.

"You're not serious?" I said blankly.

"Well, it's not as though my father is Donald Trump, you know?"

"Why are you even going to this fucking place? Why didn't you book somewhere that actually specializes in functions?"

Wandering over with open magazines in his hands, Seth said, "Because this wedding is on the rez, and the rez doesn't have a function centre. It has a community hall. Look, Edward. Don't panic. Charlie and Sue are both very highly thought of, and plenty of people will be willing to contribute whatever they can for free. We won't have to pay for any labor, we can borrow things we need, and what we can't borrow will probably be donated. Like paint, for instance."

"Okay. Fuck. What's the actual plan for the day? Ceremony and reception in the same room? Are we talking seats arranged in rows for the service, then tables being brought in for a meal afterwards? Is there storage for the tables until we need them? If we paint we'll need access as soon as possible. Is the hall already in use? Will we be able to get hold of ladders? When can we get in?" I asked, switching into business mode.

This wasn't the sort of thing I did since I'd qualified as an architect, but I'd done similar projects years ago. The budget would be a challenge, so would the deadline, but overall it wasn't going to be too difficult.

"Are there color scheme preferences, Bella?"

"Yep, there are heritage colors that have been approved by the tribal elders. I've got a list of what you can use."

"Great. Thank you. I'll get to work now. Anything else I need to know?"

"Um, number of guests, I suppose, things are still being finalized, I'll keep you posted..."

"I'd appreciate that."

Leaving me with Seth, and without my having had the chance to properly talk to her, Bella took off. Thank you, dear downstairs neighbor and orgasm-partner. Which will not be mentioned. Thank you so _fucking_ much, and by the way, just wait. Just fucking_ wait_.

For the next week, Seth and I were in daily contact and I found myself getting on really well with him. It would stand to reason that since Bella and I shared a similar sense of humor, anyone she wanted to spend a lot of time with might just be good company. Fuck damn. He was quick and efficient too, following up suggestions, negotiating with ease and charm, remaining calm in spite of the mounting pressure. Every day brought more cause to like him, and more cause to dislike him. I mean, I just didn't need the complication.

"I hit him, you know. Twice," I told Dimitri, shamefully drunk on a weeknight, knowing I had to be up and at 'em in the morning. At my real job. Which I was_ paid_ for. Which already took twentyfive hours a day.

"Yeah? Go you, dude," D said. "Did he hit you back? That's one big motherfucker."

"No, he didn't. He's too fucking _nice_," I lamented.

"He's nice?" D said. "Then what's he doing with your girl?"

"Oh, he's _upper-case_ _N_ nice," I answered, nose in my beer. "And do you think I've asked him about Bella? Because no, I haven't. And I might as well admit that he's good at this whole design thing, and he's probably handsome too, although I can't tell - who knows what girls think?"

"Who knows?" D echoed. "I sure as shit don't. Do you think I'd be sitting here night after night on my own if I did?"

"Well, fuck - why am I confiding in you then? I thought you were, like, the quiet observer who sees all."

"I don't see anything, man. I come out without my contact lenses. I like the world blurry."

"Jesus. You're still on my Christmas card list, Dimitri, but this is the last time I come to you for advice. You're useless."

"You want advice? I thought you wanted support. I'm good at support. I'm here for you, Edward."

"Great."

"I think that guy's fucking good-looking, though. Really. For chicks, I mean."

I didn't know quite what it was that kept me from bounding up the stairs and knocking Bella's door down to demand her side of the story. I thought about it - oh God, I fought the inclination every fucking night, but somehow I knew she'd be off her head with stress about her dad's big day, even more so than me. She'd either bite my head off, or curl into a ball like an armadillo bug and refuse to speak to me.

I had an unacknowledged fear too, the one I'd had all along. The fear that she'd say, "Well, actually Edward, you and I are friends and everything, but the thought of an actual relationship with _you_ involving sex is just squicky. I have to thank you for letting me have a go at your peen since I hadn't been anywhere near one in so long, but thanks to my spectacular success in giving you a beejay I've found myself confident enough to go after someone I actually find attractive. And, you know, give _him_ spectacular beejays. So yeah, thanks. By the way, Seth wants to shake your hand."

Besides, I was so fucking busy at work, and with keeping Bree on track. She and the guy who'd started at the same time as her, Riley, were good, but they needed a lot of supervision. Both of them talked too fast and went too fast, failing to verify details sufficiently, and failing to listen closely enough to what clients wanted. They'd learn, but in the meantime I had to watch them. I staggered home late every day, so tired I could barely think about even getting dinner, and wanting nothing more than sleep.

"Movie? My place?" Bella texted on the Thursday, and there was no way I'd refuse, but I fell asleep on her couch within minutes of arriving. I woke at five the next morning, finding myself comfortable and warm. She'd brought me blankets. I wanted to go to her bedroom and get into her bed, wrapping myself around her until she was wrapped around me, but it just wasn't going to look classy. Five is not a civilized time to wake somebody up, especially if you're on precarious footing with them. I slunk out, exhausted, and didn't get back to sleep. Life - be in it.

Friday I didn't finish until nine, and was at Aro's by nine-thirty, looking for solace. Two hours of stilted conversation and killing off brain cells was just what I needed. To be truthful, I was hoping Bella would turn up, but she failed to show. Sincerely intending to be out of there relatively sober and fully functional, my plans went awry when Bree arrived with whatsername. The redhead.

"You dark horse," Dimitri muttered, observing as Ginger raised her eyebrows at me and shook her impressive mane, placing gold-tinted talons on my arm.

"Let's share a bottle of bubbly, Edward," she cooed. "You want some candy-cane? I've got a foil. We could go to the bathroom and get amped."

Well, that was direct. You know what, Ginger? A few weeks ago - if you'd made me that offer, I'd have rocked your world. Absolutely. We'd have snorted lines off the cistern top and I've have given you what we both wanted in a cubicle, after some tongue-teasing and fingerwork. And then I'd have taken you upstairs and done it again. For longer.

But I couldn't.

I was too preoccupied thinking about someone else who wore clothes from wrist to ankle; someone who was grumpy and not inclined to please; who read obscure and depressing literature; who had never seen reality tv, and who fixed her hairdo with a pencil. While Bella would never in a million years offer somebody drugs, I shuddered to think what her idea of a pick up line might be.

"Have you read "The Bell Jar?" she'd probably say. "What about that scene where the narrator has to be hospitalized when she nearly bleeds to death after she has sex?"

On being hit with something so confrontational the average guy would give up any hope of seduction. He'd go and hide under the nearest table. Or if he managed to remain upright he'd have to think of a response that encompassed politics and feminism and psychology and literature. And morality and philosophy and responsibility.

But Sweetness, you don't scare me.

No matter what crazy came along with the unpredictable package that was Bella Swan, I reckoned I'd take it, and happily, too.

So D shook his head sadly as I drank too much and didn't pay Ginger much attention. Without so much as a look over her shoulder she returned to Bree's table, clearly giving up on me.

"You coulda gotten some," he said. "Amazon-lady was ready to put out."

"Not my type," I replied. "Her hair's all over the place, she's skinny, and she's got a sharp tongue."

"Oh, yeah. Because you don't like girls like that."

"No, I fucking don't - they're nothing but trouble."

"Of course they are. We're on the same page here."

The truth was that Ginger hadn't shown me any sort of a spark. She was beautiful, albeit in an airbrushed, commercial sort of way, and she was clever, but she hadn't said anything that wasn't easy to respond to. She hadn't thrown me a single curve ball, the way Bella Swan did every two seconds.

"Not all trouble's bad, though," D said after a while. "You know, in terms of women. Some of it's good, I reckon."

"You think pain and confusion are good, you masochistic bastard?"

He laughed at me. "A-ha, Edward. You're in love. I thought so."

"No, I'm not. Stop laughing. And fuck off."

Dimitri shrugged. I slid gracelessly off my barstool. Somewhere, somewhere, Bella was awake or asleep, unreachable, untouchable, and too goddamn not mine.

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	13. too fucking early

Too fucking early

Too fucking early, and far too fucking cheerful, Seth called on Saturday morning.

"Site visit! Remember?" he practically sang.

"What the fuck time is it? Why didn't you get drunk last night and why aren't you hungover now?" I snarled down the phone. "Don't tell me - you're a goldfish collecter. You don't have a social life, you spend Fridays sitting fascinatedly in front of your aquarium."

"Oh, I socialize and I drink, Sleepyhead. But_ I_ can handle it," he replied. "Are you safe to drive?"

"Yes, I'm fucking safe to drive. Whether I'm safe to be in company is another question," I said, but something I'd come to notice about Seth was that nothing seemed to faze him. Dude had unshakeable equilibrium.

"Oh, you'll be all right," he answered. "Get yourself here, I'll take over the wheel, we'll put on some rockin' music and you can just watch the scenery fly by. It's a real nice trip out to Forks. Nobody could be in a bad mood unless they hate green."

As he spoke I was lurching around, getting my head together. Site visit. Forks. Whoa - just a minute!

"Guess Bella needs to come. I'll go downstairs and fetch her, and she can ride shotgun," I said, finally feeling wide awake.

"No need, she's here. She's heading off straight after we've had breakfast, but I'll wait for you," Seth said. So casually. Meanwhile, I staggered towards the bathroom and my dresser jumped out and attacked me. I swear it broke my fucking toe.

"Bella's at your place?" I almost stammered.

"Yeah, man. She drove up last night to see Jake."

Stop right there.

_Who the fuck is_ - "Jake?"

"That's what she always seems to do lately. I swear, since I organized the garage and set it up for him he's the main reason she's around. I mean, she's working really hard on the wedding, and she's doing her editing stuff from my place, but after a couple hours she's saying, Oh I'll just go and make sure Jake has something to eat, Oh Jake really should get some fresh air, Oh Jake and I will probably head down to the park - can I take your frisbee?"

So. Jake is someone who needs food and fresh air and frisbees, and he lives in Seth's garage.

Jake must be - a dog? And Seth keeps him in the garage because otherwise Jake would eat the goldfish. And wag his hairy tail and break things. And do smelly dogfarts.

"Look, Seth, I'll just get myself together and I'll come on over. Give me, say, three hours," I said.

He snorted. "You're going to be together and here in three hours?"

"Laugh at me, face death," I warned. Shit knows how, but we'd evolved a pretty funny way of talking to each other. I really fucking liked the guy. His work was great, his work ethic was great, and he was very cool. I would probably even like his stupid spaniel. Of course, Seth wasn't right for Bella, and I was going to have to tell him so at some stage soon, but I would be more than happy to help him find his own true love, because he deserved to. There were a zillion lovely girls out there who would love a boyfriend like him. Shit - I could even set him up with Ginger.

"Do you like red hair?" I asked, handing him my carkeys once I'd arrived at his place.

"On you? Or for myself?" he said, giving me a momentary cause for pause. Was he not into Bella at all? Was he gay?

"On a woman."

"Not really, man, no. I mean, personality should be the deciding factor, right? Even though what they look like certainly counts. But no, I like 'em dark-haired."

Like a certain Ms Swan, you mean?

"But Seth, come on, if you fall in love with someone, it shouldn't matter if her hair's pink, should it?"

"You meet many girls with pink hair? You can have them. I'll take the brunettes. Now get out of the pilot's seat, big boy. I refuse to drive sitting on your lap."

I didn't even get the chance to check out his home, which I'd been wondering about ever since he'd correctly identified items of my furniture.

"You're not letting me go inside," I remarked as we drew away from the curb. "Scared I'll steal something? Or do you live in a pigsty?"

"You can see my place some other time, Edward, I just wanted to get going."

Seth's idea of rockin music turned out to be the Black Keys which was fine by me. The miles blurred by and an hour later I was starting to see what he meant about the green.

"Nice out here, huh?" he said.

"Nice enough. You a country boy?"

"Nope. This ain't _country_ Edward. I'm a _woods_ boy. Sky, trees, and the cold, gray sea. That's what's all around where we're going."

"Seth, you know that's what my color scheme represents, right? The design I've put together for the Hall?"

"No, you haven't mentioned it. Interesting, though. I like your thinking."

"Of course you do."

"Don't get too pleased with yourself - it's not me you have to impress. It's Billy, the chief. He's the one who'll decide if your ideas get the go-ahead."

"And if he doesn't like them?"

"Not your problem. It'll be my head on the block for bringing you on board."

I thought for a minute. Seth seemed very knowledgeable about our client.

"Hey buddy, what did you mean about being a woods boy? You're from around here?"

"Oh, Jesus, Edward, of course I am. I'm from the Rez. How did you think Bella and I knew each other?"

I didn't know. Not a fucking clue. I thought she must have done a search for wedding planners.

"Ah - so you already knew Bella - before this?" I asked.

Seth laughed heartily, making the car swerve. "Only all my life," he answered.

Sweet Mary mother of God - that's what I'm up against. Bella's lifelong love. All wrapped up in a hunky parcel of funny, talented designer goodness. Marvellous.

"Well, put on some fucking ambient fucking sky tree sea music then. I want to sleep," I muttered, turning my head away.

"Sure, Eddie. Fucking ambient sky tree sea music coming right up. You like Beach House?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not intending to listen."

I needed some processing time. The threat of Seth was far more serious than I'd thought, if he wasn't just some pretty face Bella had sourced form the internet. And by the way, stop making me like you, Seth, when I want to hate you. You're fucking with my head.

Sleep, sleep, sleep. I don't hate green, but on this day I wasn't going to spend half the afternoon looking at it.

"Fine. Go ahead, Edward, check out. I'll just drive along quietly here as if I'm by myself while you get some shut-eye. Don't worry about a thing. I can do self-contained. I'm not a needy guy."

"What the fuck, Seth? Are you seriously getting _petulant_ on me?" I said irritably.

"No, I'm being understanding. You're going to need your strength. You're not going to be playing in the sandbox on the Rez, you know. When there's work to do, we work hard. We'll have the Hall finished today as long as Billy's cool with your designs."

"A sixty by one hundred room painted in an afternoon? In your dreams. And please stop interrupting me in mine."

What felt like moments later I was woken by a thunderclap right next to my head. Opening cloudy eyes, I tried to figure out where I was. Surrounded by fucking trees and green, that's where.

"Back off, losers!" Seth's voice shouted next to me. That got my attention, making me shoot bolt upright in my seat. Laughter echoed around me as I saw a bunch of guys surrounding the car. There seemed to be about twenty of them.

"Fuck, you're like a gang of idiots," Seth was claiming as he got out, but he was high-fiving and even hugging them, and once I could see straight their number narrowed down somewhat. Perhaps there were only half a dozen guys there.

"Are you the welcoming committee?" I mumbled, to more laughter.

"Edward, this is - oh, you don't need to know names. They're your crew. You just tell 'em what to do and they'll do it. Guys, this is Big E. He's the man," Seth said.

Every single one of my so-called crew was as tall as me, at least, and I'm six-two. For some reason I couldn't begin to work out, not one of them was wearing a shirt. They were all so fit and muscled they looked like an Olympic team. And fuck, not that I'm checking guys out to see if they're handsome or not, but this gang had definitely all emerged from the genepool of the aesthetically blessed.

"Yeah, hey," I said, trying to sound a lot more manly than I felt. They all had natural six packs, which I took as a personal affront. The only way I'd ever have a six pack was if I painted one on. Next to the boys from the woods I was untoned, limp and pale.

But fuck, never mind that. Today, I was the boss. They had to do what I said. Seth had told them to.

My good buddy took me, amidst a certain amount of fanfare, to the community hall, where it was apparent the crew had already made preparations. The walls had been sanded down, the window edges and door frames had been taped.

"So far, so good," I said cautiously.

It seemed the entire community had turned out to gawp at the out-of-towner and Seth introduced me to more people than I could keep count of, but one was of special significance.

"This is Billy. He's the chief," Seth said, stopping me in front of an older man in a wheelchair.

"It's an honor to meet you," I said, because this guy had serious gravitas, even though I had to bend to shake his hand.

"What's your full name?" he asked sternly, and I told him.

"Do you take any drugs?"

"No. Sir."

I hadn't called another man Sir since I was a teenager but it felt in order now.

"Do you drink?"

"Now and again."

"Today?"

"No."

His narrowed eyes stared at me speculatively. I met his gaze unflinching, because shit, my presence here was under invitation and surely didn't warrant an inquisition. My designs were good and I'd do my best to see them through. He had to approve one of them first, though.

"So - you have something to show me?" he asked.

My portfolio was tucked into the man-bag I had slung over my shoulder that Seth had hooted at the second he saw it. Billy's face was inscrutable, but I thought I saw one of his eyebrows raise. Well, how the hell are you supposed to carry something that doesn't fit into your back pocket?

I'd spent hours on my designs - first with the actual concepts, and then with painting them. They were all done by hand, not on computer, because colors don't reproduce accurately with different screens and different printers. I'd used sample pots of the paint shades I was proposing for the Hall, and had reproduced everything to scale. They looked damn good, actually.

"Not bad," Billy shrugged, leafing through them. "What's your mother's birthdate?"

His question completely threw me but I answered with confidence. To my surprise, Billy laughed.

"I never trust a man who doesn't know his mother's birthday. It's disrespectful. You'll do," he chuckled. "This first one you've got here is exactly what I want. Round up the wasted youth and put them to work. Anyone not pulling their weight - send them to me."

He had an aura of such authority that I was pretty sure none of the wasted youth would want to earn his displeasure. And of the four designs, he'd picked the one that was my personal favorite.

It was an hour and a half round trip to buy the paint from the nearest town - a couple of the guys were dispatched, and I spent the time prepping the room further. The floorboards would stay the dark brown they were already stained, a greyish teal would cover the walls to about four feet high, evoking the sea, then there would be a horizontal band of dark brown to symbolize tree trunks, and a band of silvery green for the trees. Above that, the walls would be a soft pale grey, suggesting air and sky, space and peace.

The paint arrived, we were ready to go, and fuck me, Seth was right. His band of brothers were a well-oiled machine. Despite constant joking and paint-flicking at one another, they got on with the job. Before I could blink, we were halfway done. The bare walls were assuming the hues of the environment beautifully thanks to my new BFF's, who took direction without demur, proving themselves efficient and capable.

Too fucking good to be true, really. I was immersed in the day, in the vibe, in the activity and the process, and really fucking enjoying myself, when an aroma hit my nostrils, stopping me in my tracks. It stopped all of us, and we turned as one to the wide double doors of the hall.

Food. Lasagne. Carrying a steaming oven dish surely big enough to feed a platoon of ravenous men, stood the elusive Isabella Swan.

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	14. apparently

Apparently

Apparently, it wasn't just Seth she knew well around here. A willing helper took the dish from her, and then she kissed my entire crew. Every goddamn single one of them got a hug, too, except me.

"Howdy neighbor," I drawled when she reached me, last.

"Oh, hey, Edward," she said.

Hey yourself, Sweetness. Never mind the lasagne, _you_ look delicious. How about you give me up some of that sauce? Like I'd ever say such a thing.

Meanwhile plates were produced from thin air along with utensils, and Bella knelt on the floor to serve. Yes, she did. She was on her knees, on the floor. No-one commented, which was to their credit, really. Maybe they had too much respect for Seth. I didn't - but I had too much respect for Bella. Too much respect to say, nice to see you on your knees and serving me. Head brain, you did NOT just go there. Dick brain, I'm not even talking to you.

Everyone took their food outside to escape the paint fumes. There wasn't any actual need to sit under a tree for shade since this place had no sunshine, but all the same I found myself camped at the base of some kind of tall pine, cross-legged in a cosy little triangle with dear Seth, and beautiful Bella.

"So," I said to her.

"So," she said back.

The lasagne disappeared at an ungodly rate, as I seemed to have worked up an appetite. Seth ate with the verve of a champion, and Bella managed to put away a respectable amount.

"Haven't seen you much lately. How've you been?" I asked her.

"Yeah, good. Occupied," she answered, avoiding my gaze.

"Oh, yeah, you sure have been," Seth laughed, leaning over and placing his hand on her knee.

I glowered hard, but I guess they both missed it.

"Things all looking good for next Saturday, from your end?" I said.

"Um, I hope so," Bella answered.

"Well, good. Glad to hear it. You promised me bridesmaids, by the way. Can I meet them ahead of time? Just so I know whether I might be interested in any of them?"

Seth raised an eyebrow at me. Bella gave me a full scowl. "No, Edward - _Jesus._ What are you - a fucking predator?"

How awkward. How interesting. How deflating, really. Bella didn't want me interested in any local girls because she didn't want me looking like the sleazy guy she'd been responsible for introducing to Seth, and thereby bringing into the community.

Or...

She just didn't want me meeting any local girls, because she was crazy in love with me. Dreams are free.

Once we'd finished our food Seth reached for my empty plate and for Bella's. He took them off somewhere, leaving her and me on our own in that great big, under-tree quiet.

"Ineedtospeaktoyou," I said, words tumbling over themselves.

"Excuse me?" she answered.

"Bella, I know you've got a whole heap on your mind right now - but if you have a quiet moment - could we talk?"

"Um, well, Edward, sure. We need to, yeah. Definitely. Things to be said. Absolutely," she began, just as we were rejoined by Seth.

"Time to get the troops back into line," he grinned, oblivious to what I thought was visible tension. Maybe he just couldn't see it. Maybe he wanted to ignore it.

We went back to the Hall, entering via a broad ramp to the main doors which had presumably been constructed in mindfulness of the Chief's requirements, and we got back to the job at hand. I was the project manager, Seth was the crew manager, and under our leadership the room looked fucking awesome. All in a day's work.

On completion of the painting we gathered outside with various members of the community, and accepted their thanks and congratulations. Bella was part of it all, admiring everything, helping with the pack up, a steady presence amidst the comings and goings. Call me an optimist. Call me a dickhead. Bella seemed to be hanging around, and not particularly doing anything. On the positive side, this meant she wasn't in any hurry to get away from me. Viewing things negatively, she wasn't showing much in the way of hospitality to the newcomer, the outsider who was unaccustomed to the group and the surroundings, who needed his hand held in these unfamiliar circumstances.

So maybe I got a little grumpy. It wasn't that I felt insecure - far from it really, because I'd bonded with these guys over sweat and hard labor and goal-orientation and achievement. I just really, really missed my girl-buddy, who I felt like I hadn't seen for ages, and I wanted her near me.

"Hey, Bella, so you think Charlie and Sue are going to like what we've done?" I asked her.

"Yeah, they'll love it," she said.

"Of course, there's more to go yet. Did you see my plan for the furniture? I sourced some great retro stuff from this little outlet back in town. I'm getting a day off work and Seth and I are borrowing a truck and going to pick it up."

"Yeah. Awesome."

"And Seth's come up with table settings that tie in with the colors on the walls. He's found really beautiful centrepieces - they're just perfect."

"Uh-huh."

Okay, perhaps it wasn't the most riveting conversation out if you're not into design and colors, and I don't see why anyone isn't, but Bella was looking kind of vague.

"Ms Swan, excuse me, is anyone home in there?" I asked, a little irritated at her lack of response.

"Oh, sorry Edward, I was just thinking about something else."

"Something else? When I've broken my back helping out here? Slaving under a hot desk lamp to come up with concepts, spending hour and hours on the internet and phone trying to find exactly what you need to help the big day be a success? Climbing up ladders and lying on fucking scaffolds like Michelangelo, creating a masterpiece in a world record length of time for no pay, and seemingly very little gratitude or credit - and when I ask you what you think about it all, you can barely concentrate long enough to answer because your mind's elsewhere?"

Oh, her mind wasn't elsewhere after that. She was staring at me. So was Seth, I could feel it. So was everyone within a radius of half a mile.

"Oh, sorry, Edward. Sorry you're not the centre of the fucking world right now this minute. I'm grateful for your help. I'm _thankful _for your help. I _appreciate_ your help," Bella said, slowly. "Your input will make what would have been a shitty day radiant."

Ah-hah. She's listening now, all right. This was the Bella I knew, though her ire had never been directed at me before. She and I faced one another, unblinking, and any second she was going to start shooting sparks.

"Well, thanks for that acknowledgement," I offered.

"Allow me to sing your praises. Nobody else has worked as hard as you," she continued.

"Uh, Eddie, this could get dangerous. You might want to stand back a little," Seth's voice came to me.

"Oh, give the boys their due. They were all up there wielding the paintbrushes," I replied to Bella, discounting Seth's warning. "I wasn't the only one. For all those _hours_."

"_Hours_, Edward?"

Bella took a step forward, and she had eyes for no-one but me now. I couldn't stop myself.

"Yes, _hours_. While you were - baking lasagne? Lovely lunch, we all enjoyed it. Has that been your contribution to the wedding effort? Getting Seth and me to put the Hall together with the boys helping while you whipped up a little béchamel?"

"Look out - she's gonna blow," Seth whispered behind me, and indeed, Bella looked like a little volcano.

"How dare you!" she spluttered at me. "How _dare_ you? You've got no idea! You think I've done nothing? I booked the celebrant, I booked the flowers, I organized the cake! I planned the guest list and sent out the invitations and worked out the seating arrangements! I chose the music and booked the band!"

Bella livid was magnificent.

"I helped write the vows! I presided at the rehearsal! I found Charlie a tailor and forced him there to get measured up for a suit! I picked the fabric! I bought his new shirt and tie and shoes!"

She was still magnificent, but I was feeling a little bad for insinuating that she hadn't done very much. Clearly, Bella was running the entire show.

"I did the menu planning! I've ordered the fish and the meat and all the produce! I've organized drivers to pick everything up in the morning. I've roped in kitchen hands and people to serve and people to clean up afterwards."

She was slowing down, her diatribe losing steam. Sweetness was exhausted - so exhausted that even defending herself against against the sort of passive and frankly pathetic attack I'd launched was too much for her.

"I chose a photographer, and someone to video the whole day... I've hired a marquee for outside... I arranged a clown and a fairy to entertain the little kids..."

And the award for the stupidest, most thoughtless and insensitive bastard in the world goes to... Edward Cullen, prick extraordinaire.

"I booked the honeymoon. I _paid_ for a third of it. And I - I built the transport," she said unsteadily. "I built the present for both of them."

Bella was now in tears. I went straight to her, aware that she might kick me into next week, but Seth got there first, draping an arm around her. I was wondering what her last claim had meant, when I registered what he was saying.

"Bells, you're doing great. You're working so hard. The day is going to be a big success, and I'm really proud of you, little Sis."

"Why is he calling you little Sis?" I asked.

Bella wiped under her eyes carefully. "Because he thinks it's so funny."

"Why's it funny?"

Seth smirked at me. "We've always been like brother and sister, and now her Dad and my Mom are making it official. We're siblings. Imagine - I could call myself Seth Swan."

Bella managed to roll her eyes and elbow him in the ribs while I gaped at them both.

"But I thought you two - you mean you're not - ?"

"Not what?" she frowned.

"What did you think?" Seth asked.

"Well - " I began, "It looked like, you know - "

"Well - ?" Bella repeated, then obviously realized what I couldn't quite express.

"Eewww!" she shrieked. "You thought _what_? About me and _Seth_?"

Seth looked affronted. Bella looked like she might throw up.

"Why the _fuck_ would you think something like that?" she carried on.

"Really. _Dude,_" Seth stated, taken aback.

"Well - Bella, you were gone for so long with no explanation, then you turned up with him in the bar buying wine together, and he stayed at your apartment, and you don't have a second bedroom..." I muttered. "And you said when you were away you were staying with him..."

"Just stop. _Stop_. _Nobody_ gets it on with their siblings - it's weird and horrible and unlawful and just wrong," she insisted.

"Jeez - I slept on the floor at her place. She slept in my spare room. What _she _said - what _you _said is weird and horrible and unlawful and wrong," Seth added. "_Dude."_

They both appeared so appalled there was no doubting their denial.

"Uh. Okay then. Good to know," I sighed.

Bella wandered off somewhere but Seth remained, giving me a speculative gaze.

"Why's that good to know, if you didn't think we were siblings?" he said.

"Oh, just - never mind."

"Oh, but I _do_ mind. Have you got eyes on my sister?"

Well, I might have liked him for five seconds at a time when I was trying to ignore the possibility that he was Bella's lover. Now what the fuck was I going to do if he was going to go all macho and protective in the brother role?

"Seth, I'm just helping out here with the wedding out of the goodness of my heart, remember?" I lied.

Truth was, I was fucking glad someone so fit and bronzed and fucking handsome wasn't a rival for Bella's affections. I just didn't need it.

By then, the late afternoon sun was casting long shadows as me and the crew were in the Hall rolling up the cloths we'd had on the floor, and packing up for the day.

"Hey, Bell-Bell - where's that lazy mutt, Jake? Did he ride up with you?" someone said.

I was excruciatingly aware of Bella's presence, and burning to speak to her, but it had to wait until we could be alone. Her voice was close to me as she answered.

"Yeah - he's around. He jumped straight out of my truck when he saw the Littlesea kids playing football by the river. He's probably still there. You know he's tireless when it comes to kids."

Just then, into the rectangle of gold glowing through the Hall doors, as I handed over the last paint roller and tray, while standing poised on the brink of my destiny - which was with or without Bella Swan as I saw it - a silhouette appeared framed in the doorway. A man - big - even bigger than Seth. A man clad in what appeared to be traditional costume around here - a cloak of muscles and very tight jeans cut off around the knee. He stepped into the hall in slow motion, the overhead lights illuminated his face, and he made Seth look like Quasimodo. Chiselled, high-cheekboned, almond-eyed, full-lipped, and with the body of a gladiator. Jesus.

"Jake," Bella breathed, throwing herself at him.

_This_ was Jake?

He wasn't exactly a spaniel.

.

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	15. some people

Some people

Some people are so big it's redundant. Pointless. You know what I mean?

This guy could have gotten a full coat of paint on the ceiling without needing the scaffold - just by reaching up. Really, there's no need for anyone to be so fucking tall. It's not like he needed to eat leaves from the tops of trees.

"Jake, this is Edward. Edward, Jake," Bella said, and I didn't feel like getting a pain in the neck so I didn't feel like looking up as far as his face. I mumbled a few syllables figuring that was all the politeness I needed - because what was Bella doing with this ten foot high donkey kong for hours and days and weeks at a time, in a fucking garage?

But Jake took my hand and shook it, saying, "Hey, good to meet you, man. Seth told me you punched him."

And then the rest of the guys crowded around and said, "You hit Seth? Way to go, man. Could you do it again, just to give us a demonstration?"

Sweetness grimaced and said, "Well, I'm outta here now, everyone, gonna drop by Leah's for a bit. Hall looks really good. Great work. Shall I meet up with you later on?"

"Sure, just come over. The usual. Glee Club at my house," Seth nodded.

While I puzzled over this comment, Bella seemed to dematerialize. I couldn't go after her because there were so many hands patting me on the back, and so many large bodies standing around me forming a human cage.

"Some Rez hospitality, Edward? A drink with the boys? You're staying the night, of course?" Seth said, and I hadn't given any thought to the evening, I'd been so focussed on the day.

"Ah - maybe," I answered, unenthusiastic at the prospect of the long drive home, and keen at the prospect of catching up with Bella again soon. I resolutely pushed Gigantor to the back of my mind.

"But where?" I added. "You don't live here."

"I still have my old room at my mom's house. And don't tell anyone - but she spends all her nights at her fiance's these days, so her bedroom's been free for months. You're more than welcome."

"Well, okay, sounds good," I agreed.

"Come on guys, we'll leave the Hall open tonight to let the air circulate, let's hit the basketball court," Jake said, and just like that, we'd all passed through the double doors and down the ramp. There was some shoulder-punching, half-hearted scuffling going on, but we were making steady progress. How did that happen? No-one seemed to be leading, but everyone moved in the same direction, me caught up with the rest of them.

"So - basketball?" I asked the nearest guy, who could have been Sam or Paul or Peter or Joshua. It was something biblical, anyway.

"Yeah. You play?" he grinned.

"Not so much."

"Are you fit?"

"Sure."

His dark brown gaze skimmed me up and down. I'm not fat, but shit, I'm not exactly athletic. Couldn't I just sit on the sidelines and drink beer? That was how I liked to celebrate sport.

We got to somewhere there was a court marked out on gravel with hoops and backboards at either end, and a bunch of little kids appeared, flocking straight to Jake like he was a magnet. One of them handed over a ball and then I was treated to a display of agility and skill and stamina from the big guys that made me feel somewhat lacking. My talents lie in other areas, I told myself. My pursuits are more of the indoor variety. This crew probably couldn't drink as many tequila shots in one sitting as me, unless they could. Well, once I won five thousand dollars at poker - beat that, fit guys!

Actually, I'm not entirely hopeless. I'd always been tall as a youngster and I'd been steered into basketball in middle school. I hadn't disgraced myself. Hovering on the sidelines this afternoon, watching the play, at one stage the ball arced over towards me and I lurched to retrieve it out of the air, flinging it in a circus shot that unbelievably went into the hoop.

Once the cheers died down I was co-opted into Seth's team, the other captain being Jake. It was rapidly obvious that all these guys had been playing together for years by how fluid their passes were, how smoothly the ball glided between all of them. And the joking just didn't let up. The two teams were pretty evenly matched with no clear victor emerging, despite my contribution.

When we started to get tired Jake organised the kids into teams and set up a variation where if a kid wanted to shoot for a goal one of the older guys had to lift them so they'd have a better chance. It was really fucking fun, and fucking funny. Just as I'd had a hard time trying to dislike Seth, I found it was hard trying to dislike Jake. He was a natural leader, but with an easy manner, and an affinity for children that had them running around after him like little disciples.

A draw was declared and someone produced beers and sodas, and we all sat around on the grass getting our breath back.

"So, this is your 'hood," I remarked to Seth.

"Yo."

"It's pretty fucking mellow. Why did you leave?"

"The world beckoned. But hey - I haven't gone far. This place is in my blood. I just ventured a few miles away for access to the internet."

I brooded. Now that I knew just where Seth and Bella stood with one another, I had a new anxiety. Seth was a perceptive guy, so I didn't know if I could just come straight out with it without giving myself away. He quite possibly already suspected anyway. He'd already asked if I was interested in Bella. Would he mind?

"Where does Jake fit in? Why's he staying in your garage?" I asked, hoping it sounded an innocent enough, and reasonable enough question.

"Jake is Billy's son. He'll be the next chief. He's good at tinkering around with engines and he's doing some grease-monkey work that he needed a space for. I don't have a car, so my garage was free."

I thought for a second. "Okay, hang on - his father is Billy who we met today? So succession to the position of chief is hereditary? Like a monarchy?"

Seth shrugged. "Well, yeah."

"Isn't that system somewhat outdated now? What about merit? Does anyone get a say? What about democracy?"

There was a moment's quiet.

"Edward, you just spent an afternoon with Jacob. Would you dispute his suitability for leadership? After seeing him with the kids, and with the rest of the crew? Power structures here work because leaders earn respect. Billy has the trust of everyone in the community - he's strong and knowledgeable and effective, even in a wheelchair. Jake automatically got a few points because of the lineage - but you only have to meet him to know he's honest and just and caring. Jake has the integrity and heart to be the leader of our nation, and we all believe in him."

So I shut up and shrank a little. Seth was some big handsome surrogate brother who had no designs on Bella, thank God. However, Jake was a bigger, handsomer guy who amounted to being a prince. Fuck my life.

I wanted to go home, but we went back to Seth's.

I kept a low profile from then on, even though people began to gather in the yard out back of Seth's house, bringing food and beer. As the sun went down a couple of guys pulled out guitars and started singalongs. Those who weren't singing sat grouped around the open fire debating politics, or just chatting. There were girls here whose natural beauty made Ginger look plastic, and there were children and seniors who were all part of the evening, taking part in conversations, eating and laughing, dancing and talking.

Across the bonfire, I saw Bella.

Jesus, she looked beautiful in firelight. Jesus, I had to talk to her. But guess what? She was with fucking Prince Jacob, in deep and earnest discussion. Some nice girl called Emily sat by me and said hello in a friendly and welcoming way, holding absolutely the prettiest baby ever born. I was captivated by the baby - I held the baby and went all gooey-eyed over the baby - I disappeared into baby vortex for time untold, and when I next looked up, Bella was gone. I was on the verge of asking whether little Amelia needed a stand-in dad when one of my crew, who'd been introduced as Sam, turned up all smiles to claim both Amelia and Emily, and I sighed. Guess not. Off they went, leaving me alone again, naturally.

"Hey, Big E, you wanna get your head down now for some sleep? We're all pretty tired, huh?" Seth's voice said from somewhere close by, and yeah, Goddamn I was tired. Take me, Seth, to comfort and oblivion. Somewhere that Bella Swan isn't in front of me snuggling up to a dynastic bronze demigod who apparently had fast-tracked a masters degree in sociology with a minor in political science in between managing to fix anything mechanical ever that went wrong on the Rez. Now he was the principal of the school, and had implemented a mentoring program so that every single kid in the community either kept an eye on someone younger, or was looked after by someone older. Thanks Emily, for that invaluable and disheartening info. Oh, and I endorse Jacob's nomination for Citizen of the Century.

The news was even better in the morning. Bella would be staying on here in the forest of tranquility until next weekend, and not returning to her apartment in the city. What was she even paying fucking rent there for? Meanwhile I would be accompanying Seth back to Port Angeles, then making my way back to Aro's to get sorrowfully drunk, and to compound my headaches and heartaches. I should never have agreed to any of it. I should go home and get Ginger's number from Bree and see if the carpet matched the drapes.

Should I heck.

I'll just go home and immerse myself in my career single-mindedly and become the best I can be and dedicate my life to excellence and art. And maybe bonsai. If I don't have love I'll need a hobby.

I was too dispirited to speak much on the way back to Seth's apart from a few crucial aspects of the wedding that still needed to be finalized. We had a mild difference of opinion over folding versus stackable chairs. Then another over the fucking water tumblers. When we couldn't agree on what color gypsophila we should order for the table centerpieces, I knew I was losing the plot.

"Edward, I think we're both feeling a little pressured here. Let's both of us not think about the whole thing any more for the rest of the day, okay? We're on the home stretch after all. We'll forget about it for now and talk during the week, okay?" he said as I dropped him off.

"Yeah."

"I mean it. Go and have a few drinks or shoot some pool or something. Chill."

"Yeah. You, too."

One of his suggestions had certainly hit the mark. I texted ahead to D, saying I was on my way.

He met me with a question in his eyes and a round of shots already lined up. Salt, lemon, and the sharp, metallic-herbal taste of the cactus. I swear I felt its spines gouging me all the way down inside my mouth, my throat, my heart.

"How's everything shaping up?" he asked hopefully, wanting gossip and good news.

"Oh," he answered himself, before I could formulate my response. "Why am I even asking? You look like shit. And where's Bella? Why isn't she with you? Or is that why you look like shit? Has something happened? Is it about that huge guy?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "There's a problem with a huge guy, only not the one you met. There's a whole fucking bunch of them, but the one who came here is her step-brother. He's not the one I have to worry about. There's another guy, who's the prince of the whole fucking world, and he and Bella have spent the last month and a half in some fucking purpose-built love nest in Port Angeles. That's why she hasn't been around."

D considered what I'd said. He helped himself to the complimentary peanuts in a bowl on top of the bar. I'd told him countless times not to eat that shit because of other men putting their hands in there, and dude, you know how remiss men can be about washing their hands after they've been using the rest rooms. How D didn't have constantly recurring gastro, I didn't know.

"Eddie, it just can't be as bad as you're making out," he shook his head. "I mean, Bella clearly, obviously, blatantly likes you a lot. Why else would she put up with the random shit you talk all the time? She even thinks you're funny, and not just laughable. You're her _friend _- that counts for a lot with chicks."

"Hmm."

"I don't think you need to worry about this other dude at all. Don't sell yourself short. What's he got that you haven't?"

"Hmm." Where do I fucking start? Jesus, I've never been like this before. My self-esteem has been pretty much rock solid until now.

"Look," D wasn't finished yet. "The wedding is this weekend coming up, isn't it? She'll be there, you'll be there, love will be in the air... go for a kiss, Edward. If she won't kiss you at a fucking wedding you'll know you haven't got a hope. Better still, get her to spend the night with you afterwards and seal the deal. Bella is _not_ the sort of girl who'd hook up with someone she didn't care about. You'll be organizing your own fucking wedding in no time, believe me."

_Spend the night with her after the wedding, seal the deal. _

How simple! Why didn't I think of that?

I did! But it's a stupid plan that would never fucking work, because I'd never fucking manage to get that far.

.

.

.

_Alone again, naturally_ is a song by, um, (runs to find out) Gilbert O'Sullivan which has a jaunty, cheery feel to it, but don't be misled. It's fucking SAD.


	16. okay

Okay

Okay, it was like this. Week from hell. Work was busy and demanding, and I delegated to Bree because she was my fucking assistant. Well - I don't mean that how it sounds.

Only it turned out I wasn't one of Bree's most favorite people because she thought she'd done evolution a favor hooking me up with Verucca, only to find that I'd turned Verucca down in favor of making my way through a sloshing river of alcohol in a valiant attempt to dry-dock the bottom of a glass. Several glasses, in fact. A disgruntled Verucca had then dominoed into a disgruntled Bree. Or was that snowballed? Whatever - there seemed to be some annoyed girls around.

On a professional level, Bree had a fucking nerve to act as though she didn't have to do what I told her to do because she was pissed at me. She was naive, too. Keep your social life and your work life separate, little Soft Cheese, or you may find you come to grief. Like, you get taken off doing the interesting stuff because you're unco-operative, and you get asked to sort out the stationary locker and see if we need to order more staples and whiteboard markers while someone else gets to the actual architecture. It wasn't my call, it was the office manager's, but Bree was acting like a snotty bitch to everyone.

Add to that me having a colossal fight with Seth over tablecloths. Such an even-tempered guy, he didn't lose his cool for a second, but I reckon his blood pressure was going up as we argued over white versus green, cloth versus paper, and we got more and more intense, neither of us willing to back down. I won, but there was nearly blood drawn.

I'd applied for Thursday and Friday as vacation days because Seth and I had decided we'd get everything together Thursday, get the hall sorted, and we'd have a whole day up our sleeves if we discovered we'd overlooked anything, or if something went wrong. By the time Thursday rolled around I'd hardly eaten, hardly slept.

Having to ignore the fatigue, I went and collected Seth, and drove out to the woods.

And incredibly, we set the hall up with the help of the crew, and it seemed that things were all in order. Under control. The linked seats that we'd borrowed for the service were placed in rows facing the stage, the separate chairs along with tables were in the storage room ready to be pulled out for the reception, the tableware was neatly stacked on shelves, the stage was set up for the band. Too easy.

Even so, I was having palpitations. The hall looked good - I _knew_ it did. But would Charlie and Sue think so? Billy? Prince Jacob? What about the whole fucking community? I felt like a stupid white cityboy upstart, turning up going Oh I want to use a shade called Seamistcloudskywank that will be just _perfect_. And to contrast I suggest Velvetemeraldforestwank. And I will further honor and acknowledge your ancestral home by using accents in a color known as Pullmydickancienttreetrunkwa nk.

"Does it look okay?" I asked Seth, trying to downplay my level of anxiety.

"Jesus, Edward, it looks fucking awesome," he replied, gazing around approvingly.

"Seriously?"

Seth looked me straight in the eye. "Seriously, big guy. You've done really well. Everyone's going to love it. Congratulations. Our work here is finished, and we can relax now."

"It wasn't all me - Jesus. You did half, and the guys did the other three-quarters."

"What can I say - apart from you suck at math? Luckily I can cover for you there."

Okay. Take off your self-absorbed goggles, Edward, and put on the objective, clear-eyed ones.

The hall looked fucking _great._

"Guess we make a good team," I admitted.

"Guess we do. You want to go fishing?"

Fishing?

"Well, I've never done it before, but sure, yeah, okay."

An hour or two later, I worked out that "fishing" was a euphemism for gathering up a whole bunch of meaningless gear, driving to some desolate spot and then doing nothing. With beer. Just what I needed. Fucking cool.

So Seth and I "relaxed" for Thursday afternoon and most of Friday. With beer. We sat at some spot he swore there'd be salmon, cast our lines in, and sat back with contented sighs, ready to spend hours in idleness.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked him, to pass the time.

"Nah. Do you?"

"Would I be hanging here with you, failing to catch any fish if I could be getting laid instead?"

He frowned. "Dude, that is all wrong on so many levels. For one thing - we've become friends, haven't we? Hanging out failing to catch fish is something friends do. For another thing - we're talking about _girlfriends_, aren't we? That's not just about getting laid, it's about being with a girl you actually want to be with even when you're _not_ getting laid."

"Well, fuck, I know that. I was being flippant, and a dick. It's called sarcasm, Seth. Don't go all hissy on me. Yeah, you and I are friends. Despite the lack of fish. And no, I don't have a girlfriend, and I'm not getting laid either. Happy?"

"Thrilled."

Seth didn't look remotely thrilled, though. He just looked remote. I wondered whether to wander into uncharted territory and question him or to just let it go. But fuck - _he _was the one claiming we were friends. Maybe he needed someone to talk to.

"Uh - so, well - _are_ you happy?"

Seth appeared to weigh it up. "Mostly."

"Uh. What does that mean?"

"It means mostly."

"What does mostly mean?"

"It means my life is pretty good as far as work goes, and having friends goes, and having interests and being on really good terms with my family. I don't have a lover, though. So I'm mostly happy, but I still feel that there's something missing."

The conversation had taken a serious turn. "So you want a girlfriend?" I asked.

"Edward," he said. "_Edward._"

"Yeah?"

"No, I don't want a girlfriend. I want a _boy_friend."

Whoa. "You're _gay_?"

"Last time I checked, yeah."

I stared at him in surprise. It just wasn't something that had ever crossed my mind.

"But - " I began.

"That's a little reductive of you, but yes, that's my orientation," he answered.

"You said you like dark-haired girls!"

"I do. Aesthetically. Not to sleep with."

"Oh. Right."

Seth sighed, reeling his line back in to see his bait had disappeared but the hook yielded nothing.

"Are you okay with this?" he asked in an even voice.

Of course I was. Of fucking course. Any fears I'd had about him and Bella dissolved, and I found myself genuinely glad she was so close to and so trusting of, and so well-regarded by such a strong and caring guy who was never going to try and get in her pants. Not to mention being glad that the second-handsomest man I'd ever seen wasn't a rival for the girl I liked. And fuck, Seth - I've known you for a few weeks now and you're cool and funny and interesting, and I just fucking _like _you - what's not to be okay with about your sexuality?

"Yeah, completely. It's just, I was going to offer to introduce you to some girls I know who work in the arts field, so you might have something in common. I'm going to have to rethink that. I'd love to matchmake for you, but where the fuck are we going to find any gay men who are into interior design?"

Seth laughed. I laughed. Fuck - my first gay friend. We ought to celebrate.

"Got any more beer?" I asked, and was handed another can.

"What about you?" Seth asked. "Are you looking for love?"

I shrugged. "I might be, but it's proving a little elusive."

"Thinking of anyone in particular?"

"Maybe."

Seth snorted. "Someone who might have big brown eyes and a very untidy apartment..."

Well, he certainly had me all figured out. I didn't think I'd been that obvious.

"I'm sure I don't know who or what you're talking about," I drawled.

"Oh, I'm sure you do. My sister. Jesus, you knocked me to the floor Edward, when you didn't know who I was and you thought I might've hurt her. Because of that, I like you. Then, fuck, from hanging around with you and working with you, I like you more. I'll be your wingman, okay? But only if you're serious. Not if you just want to fool around with her. You'll be the one knocked to the floor if my little sis gets hurt."

"Wingman? Well, thanks, but isn't there a great big impediment to my having anything to do with Bella? Like, an impediment called Jake?"

Seth rubbed his chin and gazed out over the horizon. "Hmm, the Jake situation," he said. "She's pretty embroiled there, certainly, and he makes quite a lot of demands on her time. But it's not going to last forever, and it shouldn't get in the way of you asking her out, if you want to."

What? _What? _I didn't for the life of me understand what he was getting at, unless it was to say that they celebrated free love around here, and Bella could date two guys at the same time without Seth blinking an eye. Okay, very libertarian. _Very._ Not my thing at all. I mean, if I wasn't seeing someone, I could see anyone - and let's face it, I did. But if _was_ seeing someone, that would be it for me.

"Well, I don't know, Seth..." I said dubiously.

"What don't you know? You like her or you don't," he replied.

There's nothing like an afternoon of fishing to make you question your life principles. Maybe I was conservative. Maybe I was controlling. Maybe I was a chest-beating, knuckle-scraping ape, expecting to possess Bella and rule her and deny her freedom of association. Maybe Jake was a better prospect for her.

Maybe soul-searching after thirty-seven beers is the way to enlightenment, and maybe it isn't. These were thoughts I needed to be stone-cold sober for, which designated them thoughts for another day. The next day was Saturday. Oh, fuck, the wedding. The whole reason for my presence.

"Jesus, Seth," I said. "When's the wedding starting? Shouldn't we be getting ready or something?"

"Chill, Edward. It's tomorrow - we've got hours to go. Let's head back to my place and see who's around. But I don't want to go back empty-handed. We need fish. I'm breaking out the never-fail bait."

"Oh, _now _you decide to get serious."

Seth baited both our hooks with something foul and smelly he got out of a ziplock bag tucked down in the recesses of his kit somewhere, and in no time he'd hooked a monster of the deep that was about three feet long. Obviously the death throes of his victim alerted any others in the vicinity to steer clear of the smelly stuff, and my hook came back up empty.

"Better luck next time," he shrugged, hitting the fish on the head, then cutting its gills while I watched, fascinated. In the back of his truck he had a trough of ice that he lowered the fish into once it had stopped bleeding, and he scooped ice over it.

Later, the fish was filleted and cooked amidst general bonhomie in Seth's backyard, which appeared to serve as an informal community centre. I'm sure everyone there had a great time. Jake didn't show, Bella was conspicuous by her absence, and I ghosted around the periphery avoiding being drawn into conversation and even avoiding eye contact until I succumbed to resignation and went to bed. An afternoon's drinking followed by disappointment will do that to you. Take my word for it.

And in the morning, the wedding day dawned with a brightness that shouldn't be allowed. I thought this was supposed to be the gloom capital of America. Sunlight had no fucking right to be streaming across my pillow in jolly little beams that mocked self-pity. No right at all.

Seth was nowhere to be seen but he'd left a note inviting me to help myself to breakfast, so I had three cups of coffee.

Jitters notwithstanding, I was ready for the day. Or I soon would be. My suit was hanging in the closet. My shaving gear was lined up tidily on the bathroom vanity, along with my toothbrush. I'd brought enough hair gel to wrangle my unruly hair into submission, and a comb and dryer to assist with the wrangling.

By the time the afternoon rolled around I'd eaten eggs and toast, showered, shaved and dressed, and was feeling more or less presentable. Nervous and excited too, to be completely honest.

So here we go, ladies and gentlemen. Best foot forward.

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Indeed.


	17. it seemed

It seemed

It seemed everyone on the Rez was heading towards the Hall, all of them smiling and happy. I was greeted with nods and handshakes, even hugs, by people I didn't know as I made my way along in the same direction.

Inside, the Hall was busy and buzzing. Crowded enough to worry me about the amount of seating we'd organized, even though we'd allowed for the entire population to attend, and plenty of guests besides. I'd expected to feel conspicuous because Bella had complained that the paleness of what little of my body she had ever seen had given her snow blindness, but there were other fair-skinned people around too. For a second, the sight of uniformed police officers startled me, but then I figured they were Charlie Swan's workmates. My painting crew were milling about, and gave me shoulder slaps in welcome. Easy, guys. I don't want to bruise. Not with my high hopes for later on tonight.

I was about to slip unobtrusively into a seat near the door when Jake materialized at my side.

"You're expected in the front row," he said. "Groom's side. Nice suit, by the way."

"Yours, too," I answered, which was only fair. He was wearing a charcoal-colored three piece in a silk-blend with a black shirt and a black tie. He looked fucking good, for a bastard. But wait a minute - front row? I had been intending to more or less skulk at the back, playing the silent observer.

"Are you sure?" I said.

"Sure, I'm sure. That's a great suit," he answered, turning to make his way through the rows of chairs.

"About the seating?" I clarified, following him.

"Yep. You're keeping an eye on Bella. If the slightest thing goes wrong, she's going to lose her shit, and if she loses her shit, Charlie will go to pieces, and if Charlie goes to pieces, Sue will have a meltdown, and if Sue has a meltdown - well, Billy will declare a state of emergency, and then the whole thing will be a fiasco."

How casual he was, asking me to mind Bella. How kind. How fucking trusting. And proprietary. You there - you look safe enough - watch my girl would you? He thought I presented no threat to him. We'll see about that. How about I watch Bella with my _hands_, silkboy?

Still, he was right. I knew Bella, and I knew how on edge she'd feel today, and how perfect she wanted it all to be. Sweetness - I'd make everything perfect for you if I could.

The guests were starting to seat themselves now and Jake disappeared to I knew not where while I approached the front.

Charlie Swan was standing looking stiff and apprehensive, and yet somehow as thrilled as a kid on his birthday. I'd met him a couple of times when he'd visited Bella, and he was a gruff guy with a handshake that was bone-crushing. He probably didn't get too many repeat offenders on his watch. _I _wouldn't like to cross him, that's for sure.

And just beyond Charlie, once he'd nodded distractedly to me, then blinked rapidly and crushed my hand, I espied a vision. There she was, Bella Bellissima, my angel. What a transformation!

Her hair was all pulled back into a high ponytail, and it had been straightened to fall like a heavy velvet curtain over one shoulder. Her face was a fucking marvel - all porcelain skin and huge limpid eyes and plump pink lips clamped into a nervous line. I went to launch myself at her and offer some reassurance that everything was going to be just fine and maybe lick her from top to toe as well, when I tripped over Billy. Oh, shit. His wheelchair was right next to Charlie - well, of course it would be, since he was Charlie's best friend. That would make him candidate number one for Best Man. In my agitation I just hadn't seen him.

"Pardon me, Chief," I said. Jesus, Edward, get your act together.

"You've hurt me," he moaned.

"Sir! I'm so sorry. What can I do? Should I call somebody?" I asked, urgently.

"I think I need medical attention," he said.

"An ambulance?" I gasped, ready to just fucking die.

"I can't feel my legs. I may lose the use of them - " he said, and was interrupted by Bella.

"God, Billy, stop it. You're freaking Edward out. Edward - relax. It's just his sick sense of humor. He hasn't felt anything in his legs for years."

Billy chortled while I tried to gather my wits and will my poor arrested heart to start beating again. Charlie was snorting quietly too. Thanks guys. Way to treat the nervous stranger.

I made my way past Billy, without giving him a kick in the shins, and stood with Bella. From having almost stopped with fright at the suggestion I'd injured Billy, my heart went to jackhammering. She was wearing an utterly stunning dress that consisted of fine lace net with red, pink and blue flowers over it. The neckline was high, but through the mesh I could clearly view her shoulders, see the shape of her arms. The dress was so tight it revealed Bella had a perfect hourglass figure, her slender waist flaring into womanly hips that sloped down to shapely thighs - and holy shitballs, Batman... The hem was barely an inch below her knees. _Jesus_.

I felt like a fucking Victorian, becoming excited over the sight of a woman's calves and ankles. Not to mention everything else. Fucking crap, neighbor-buddy - you've had a body like this all along and I never even suspected it? There was more of her on show than I'd ever seen before and my gaze was riveted - so much skin! She was covered in the stuff - the layer of lace couldn't disguise how pearly-white and soft it was. Lord, Bella - put on a jacket! Cover up! I didn't want anybody else so much as _glimpsing _that bounty.

Seconds later, music started to play through the speakers. You've got to be kidding me. The Wedding March? It was an unusual acoustic guitar version actually, quiet but still stately. Charlie fidgeted and cleared his throat while Jake appeared at the front of the room, facing the gathering, and Bella seemed to be frozen. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and tension was plain on her face as we awaited the arrival of the bride.

But the pretty music was suddenly interrupted by a rude mechanical noise. It sounded like somebody was riding a motorcycle outside. I looked around in concern to notice everyone else was doing the same thing. The noise got closer and I thought what the fuck? A latecomer? If you were late wouldn't you get off your fucking bike anyway and just walk so that you didn't cause a disturbance?

The sound got louder, and the music got louder, but to my surprise, the song changed. Drums and electric guitar began to blare out, and everything suddenly got really fucking weird. I knew the song that had come on because Bella had played it to me when I was at her place and her dad was there. It was called Born to be Wild, by some old biker sounding outfit from the 60's. Charlie's eyes had lit up as he watched the clip and Bella had giggled to me that he'd always fantasized about doing a road trip on a Harley.

And now shit, the music was drowned out altogether as a fucking motorbike appeared coming up the ramp, and all the way into the hall.

And riding the bike was quite simply the most spectacular woman I had ever seen. Absolutely a goddess. In fucking black leather. She had eyes of obsidian and cheekbones like clifftops. Her bearing was regal, and her form lithe. She looked _elemental _- like she was made of the earth, or the earth was made of her. I gaped as she nonchalantly threw her leatherclad thigh over the saddle and dismounted, tossing the bike keys to Jake and strolling with the aloofness and grace of a jungle-cat to the bride's side of the aisle. Fuck me dead.

Following her came another bike, Seth astride it in black leathers as well, looking every bit as regal as the extraordinary girl. I suddenly saw a resemblance. They were both rocking that force of nature thing, but Seth had an easy smile, whereas this girl, who I realised now must be his sister, had an expression that said, "I could kill you with my bare hands". Can you cream yourself and pee yourself at the same time? I'd never been closer to finding out.

Behind Seth sat a softer, plumper, older version of the girl, a woman radiant and lovely, and Christ on a cracker, she looked queenly. She had to be Seth's mother, and therefore, Charlie's betrothed. By this stage the clapping and cheering had died down to the point that all I could hear was snuffling. Next to me Billy's lip was trembling in sharp contrast to the stern pride in his eyes, while Charlie looked like he would either clutch his bride to his manly chest or bolt.

Sue, because of course it had to be Sue, dismounted with a hand on Seth's arm, and walked forwards with the same easy grace as her daughter, but without the ferocity.

And then of course the pillar of strength and godliness and everyfuckingthing else, Jacob, turned out to be the celebrant.

He embarked on a speech about Charlie having been an honorary member of the tribe forever but now his relationship with them all was being formalized and they were all so fucking happy to receive him and blah blah. I tuned out then. I mean, I was happy for Charlie and Sue, but that's enough of Jacob already. Next to me Bella was sniffling very prettily and I was glad I had a handkerchief to offer her, because considering the fit of that dress, there was no way she had pockets.

She continued to sniffle while vows and rings were exchanged, and while her father and Seth's mother put on a near-pornographic show for the entire town when they kissed. Obviously things were going to be fairly heated in the marital bed later on, if they managed to hold off until then. Things might well get quite heated in the Community Hall bathroom at the rate the newlyweds were going. My pretty Bella was averting her eyes and blushing as the kiss went on and on, no doubt fearing that the act that would bring about a half-sibling was in imminent danger of taking place.

Meanwhile someone had begun a song which the congregation of well-wishers all appeared to know, and all joined in on. The program I'd found on my seat had the lyrics printed on it, and I had a go at singing along, not doing too badly I thought. Bella had a go too, and that was when I discovered she could sing every bit as well as she could dance. Not that it mattered a whit to me, now that I'd seen how sexy her ankles were.

The two-member spectacle continued apace in the front row until Billy managed to prise the happy couple apart by moving his wheelchair forward so abruptly he rammed Charlie in the leg.

"We need to clear the room," Billy said sternly, and started waving his arms about in what seemed indecipherable windmills. The crew had either had prior briefings or could mind-read and the rows of chairs were swiftly and efficiently rearranged into groups around tables in readiness for the next stage of the event.

The Wedding Breakfast. Could I have a drink yet? We were all ushered outside while the preparations took place. Bella was introducing me to all and sundry as Seth's helper, and Seth's partner, and Seth's consultant until I wanted to pull her aside and have words. Well, fuck, I wanted to pull her aside and run my hands all over her hitherto unsuspected curves, but I wanted to have words as well.

"Bella," I growled, taking her elbow at a moment when we weren't surrounded. "Could you stop linking me to Seth the way you are? "

"What do you mean?" she asked, mouth adrift, eyes luminous, hair tamed and out of the fucking way, neck pale and graceful. Even her ears looked perfect. I couldn't allow my eyes to look any further down the delectable skinscape beneath her throat and beyond.

"Everyone's giving me these knowing looks. They think I'm _with_ him."

"Nobody thinks you're with Seth, Edward. That's _not _what they think," she mumbled cryptically, leaving me to gaze helplessly after her as she swayed away on high heels that flexed her calves, swung her hips, and brought her mouth four inches closer to mine in height than it had ever been before. _Damn._

From across the room I caught Seth's eye as he smirked.

Wingman, he'd said? So when was that going to start happening?

Jacob appeared at the door to invite everyone back in, and we were faced with a mountain of food that was positively daunting. Apparently I was seated at the bridal table, so I scurried back there after allowing myself generous portions at the self-serve buffet. The card with my name on it was placed between one inscribed with Bella, and one inscribed with Jacob. I'd rather have sat next to Seth, but I was on the groom's side and he was on the bride's side. And anyway, he was next to the scary girl. At least I was spared that. And I could completely ignore the fabulous Jacob, and fondle Bella's thigh during the meal.

As if!

The food was delectable, I concentrated on my plate, keeping my hands and thoughts to myself, and refused the wine waiter every time he came past.

Things were going great, and could only get better, right?

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Um, sorry. I suck.


End file.
